Fatum Amoris The Fate of Love
by Horcrux7
Summary: His whole life Patrick Potter had heard about Malfoys; Slytherin cowards. Why then is their daughter Medea a Gryffindor who loves justice? And after 7 years of tension, why is he falling for her? Leaving Medea to wonder what's so bad about being a Malfoy?
1. Welcome to Hogwarts

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

_**Fatum Amoris**_

**Welcome to Hogwarts**

"You knew this day would come," Draco whispered into his wife's ear as their daughter boarded the train.

"I know," she sighed. "I didn't realize it would come so fast." Hermione allowed her husband to comfort her. "I know she'll be fine."

Draco tried to stop it, but he snorted anyway. "What? Like we were? Have you forgotten all seven years of our schooling?"

"I've tried," she teased and her forced smile turned almost genuine. She watched the pale, puffy hair of her daughter disappear into the massive, steaming train with one last wave. "We should probably go now, before I start crying."

"You still have tears left?"

Hermione hit him playfully. "Yes."

Draco just smiled. They'd been married for twelve years, and he loved her more than ever. He woke up smiling everyday she was by his side. Even the fact that people still glared at them in the streets, or that their former schoolmates with children the same age still gawked at them instead of waving to their children didn't bother him. They were happy and that was all that mattered. "You want to go to the store, don't you?" he asked the train pulled away, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes,"

Medea Malfoy finally found an empty compartment just as a mixed group of first years like herself came down the corridor. She quickly stepped inside and pulled the door shut. It was a vain effort though, because the door was opened again as she sat on the seat nearest the window.

"Isn't there another one?" one of the girls asked as she looked Medea over.

"Did you see one?" the tallest boy asked a little too harshly and the girl nodded. "She's the only one in here so deal with it, Odile." All four of them spilled into the compartment and sat near the door.

Medea envied them, but she didn't like them automatically. They were friends and she'd hardly met anyone until then. Her only friends were the characters in the muggle books her mother gave to her every week. Her mother told her that she knew as much as a third year already. But she still didn't have any friends, and the aforementioned facts probably wouldn't gain her many. Not true friends anyway.

They whispered to themselves the whole trip. They didn't introduce themselves, or speak to her at all. She just sat there with her book and pretended to read, but she was really looking them over.

She could automatically tell that the tall one was the leader. His hair was deep, dark auburn, and it looked like it hadn't been combed at all his whole life, but he was obviously a leader. His skin was pale and it contrasted with his bright eyes, so green that she could them clearly from where she sat.

The other boy had dark skin and hair, but his features were definitely English. He hung on every word out of the other boy's mouth, but every time the lot of them laughed it was because of something that had come out of his mouth. Humor seemed quite natural to him.

The girls looked very much alike and they acted very much alike, she almost thought they were twins. They both had silky, strawberry blonde hair. No, that wasn't it; it was strangely pink because it looked so silky. But as she looked at them closely, the strong resemblance stopped. Their features were different and their voices, although both with the smallest hint of a French accent, were very different as well. The voice belonging to the taller one with long hair was light, high and soft. The one with neat, shoulder length hair had a lower voice, almost husky. And they got along too well to be sisters anyway.

All four resembled each other strangely, even though they were so different.

Medea didn't look up until their door was slid open and boy with carefully parted red hair and a badge came into the compartment. "Here you are!" he said.

The girl they called Phaedra narrowed her eyes. This was apparently her brother. "Go away, Bill Jr."

"I told you not to call me that here, Phaedra!" he whispered.

"Go away," the other girl, Odile, reiterated. "I'm glad I'm an only child."

Bill ignored her statement. "Mum told me to look after you lot." He shook his head. "Anyway, get your robes on, we're almost there."

Medea looked down. She was already in her uniform, all she had to do was slip on her robe and she'd be ready, so she went back to her book while the others changed.

As they crossed the lake she stared up at the castle in amazement. For the past year her parents had been telling her about it, and how they'd felt, but nothing could have taken the magic away from that moment. It was the same with the great hall, especially the ceiling. But their warnings also couldn't quell the nervous knots in her stomach.

"First years," Headmistress McGonagall addressed them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. You will now be sorted into your houses." And she stood aside for the ancient hat to sing its song.

Medea remembered the four houses from her mother's book, _Hogwarts, A History_, and some of the first years around her smiled knowingly as people were sorted. They had friends; they knew where they were going. Her parents had been in different houses; she didn't know where she was going. It could be anywhere.

"Medea Malfoy," Headmistress McGonagall called and she went and sat on the stool.

"A Malfoy," the hat mused. "But this, no, it couldn't be. I never thought I'd see the day I wouldn't place a Malfoy in Slytherin, but it better be… GRYFFINDOR!" it yelled.

She hopped off the stool and went to the table among much cheering. It seemed that no one else would be placed in Gryffindor; everyone else after her went to the other three houses. She looked to the person next to her, the redheaded, badge clad boy from the train, and asked, "Are there only the six of us in this house?"

He laughed and pointed to the group she'd shared a compartment with. "See those four? They'll all be in here."

Sure enough…

"Patrick Potter… Gryffindor!"

Then there was a long line of others.

"Hyatt Weasley…Gryffindor!"

"Odile Weasley…Gryffindor!"

"Phaedra Weasley…Gryffindor!"

As they sat beside her one by one, she couldn't help but think about what the Sorting Hat had said. With the other four there had been no question, no pause, the hat had decided almost before it had been rested on their heads. But not with her_…"Never thought I'd see the day I wouldn't place a Malfoy in Slytherin." _What did that mean?

Before she could think on it, a feast appeared in front of their eyes and she forgot her worries. In fact, she didn't think on it until the ten new Gryffindors were led to their new home, the Gryffindor Tower. It was then that she realized that she'd have to share a room with the two pink haired girls. Share a room for seven years. She wasn't quite looking forward to it.

She was glad to be there though. She found some parchment and a quill and immediately began a letter to her parents. She told them about the train ride and the Sorting Hat, but she was sure to tell them she was happy even if it wasn't quite true.

When she went back into her new room, the two girls, Odile and Phaedra if she remembered, stopped talking immediately and their eyes followed her as she walked across the room. She didn't understand their contempt; it was the same with the two boys. It was like they knew something she didn't.

And then they began speaking in French. Medea smiled to herself but remained silent until they'd had their fill of insulting the school and saying how they should have gone the Beaubaxton. Then they said something about her, her thick, pale braid to be specific, and Medea took that as her cue. She turned on them and said in perfect French; "I speak French, you nit wits."

In fact, she spoke five languages thanks to her mother. French was just one. But it got the wanted effect; they shut up with a snooty _Hmph!_

Patrick Potter raced his cousin to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning and met the disapproving eyes of the blonde Gryffindor he'd sat with on the train. Medea Malfoy, he remembered. She had the pale skin and hair of a Malfoy, or at least, that's the way his family had always described the Malfoys. But those Malfoys had always been in Slytherin according to them; this one was in Gryffindor, house of the Weasleys and the Potters.

She had a book in her hand and went back to it as he sat down. He wasn't stupid, if she was in Gryffindor then it meant she belonged there, and that meant he should try to be nice. "Good book?" he asked.

She looked up in surprise. "Yes," she replied and went back to it.

Patrick didn't really mind. If she didn't want to talk that was okay. He had his cousins; he wasn't in need of friends. He really didn't dislike her, but she could use some warmth.

**A/N:** This story was written as a sequel to "It's Witchcraft" but it reads as its own story, so if you haven't read "It's Witchcraft", please continue reading! Plus, you will be brought up to speed in subsequent chapters, so no worries! Naturally tho, I do recommend reading "It's Witchcraft" because I think it is a wonderful story...tho I am biased a little lol. Enjoy!


	2. Weasley Vs Malfoy

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Two: Weasley Vs. Malfoy**

Medea's pale hand shook in anticipation as she held the letter with the Hogwarts seal. This was the moment she'd been waiting for the entire holiday. Both of her parents had been Prefects while at Hogwarts and she was about to find out if she was going to carry on the tradition.

"Just open it, Medea," Hermione laughed. "Whether you open or not won't change what's in it."

"I know, I'm just nervous," she admitted.

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, love," Draco assured her soothingly. "You haven't broken any school rules, which is more than I can say for the two of us."

Hermione laughed. "That's true, but I broke them for better purposes than him," she added in a whisper.

"Plus, you had better O.W.L.s than even your mother at your age."

Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. "I had a bias professor and you know it well."

Draco tightened his hold on her and kissed her cheek. "My dear, that's entirely not the point. The point is she has absolutely nothing to worry about."

Medea had been so caught up her parent's jovial banter that she'd almost forgotten the point herself. She looked down at the envelope and took a deep breath. It helped to know that even if she hadn't been chosen as the Gryffindor Prefect her parents would still love her just as much as they always had. "Here it goes."

She tore open the seal and to her great relief a scarlet badge floated down onto the table. She sighed, letting all her tension and anxiety go, and eventually laughed.

"Congratulations!" Hermione cheered and moved around the table to hug her daughter. "I always knew you would be one. If your father was a Prefect then the Head Mistress would have been mad not to make you one."

Instead of pretending to be hurt, he nodded slowly in agreement. "I can't deny it; even I thought the Head Master was mad when he made me a Prefect. But then, there weren't any more qualified candidates in Slytherin."

Hermione rolled her eyes, even though it was true. This day wasn't about them.

Medea couldn't stop smiling. "I don't think I've ever been so happy to go back to school."

"I know it's exciting but it really is a job," Hermione reminded her. "I have no doubt that you'll be wonderful though."

"Thanks, mum."

"Mum, are you always going to cry when I leave?" Medea asked at the station before she got on the train to Hogwarts for her fifth year.

Hermione wiped away the solitary tear that had rolled its way down her cheek. "Yes. Are you ever going to cry when you leave?"

Medea shook her head. "Sorry, I just love school! Especially this year. But I promise I'll write and tell you about the other Prefects as soon as I get there."

Draco pulled his daughter into a long hug and kissed her head. "Just get on the train and have a good year," he whispered. "Don't worry about your mum, she'll be busy enough with your brother. Good-bye, love."

"Bye, dad." Medea bent down and picked up her four-year-old brother Jarett. "Bye-bye, Jarett," she said and kissed his pudgy cheek.

"Bye-bye, Dea," he returned and gave her a very sloppy excuse for a kiss. "I miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," she laughed.

The whistle signaling the final boarding call sound and Medea ran to catch the train. But the first person she ran into in the narrow corridor was the one person who could ruin her perfect day: Patrick Potter. He looked down at her badge and gave her a malicious grin. "Hello, Malfoy. I must say I'm not surprised."

Her nostril flared irritably. He could make her mad without even trying. "Don't cross me, Potter," she warned, but it was more of a plead. As much as she wanted to punish him for being a thorn in her side for the past four years, she didn't want to take points away from her own house. But she would if she had to.

Thankfully, Hyatt stepped in front of him. "Come on, Patrick," he said seriously. "Let's get a compartment before they're all full."

His green eyes narrowed and the tension seemed to grow exponentially as they stared at each other. If there was one thing he truly couldn't stand about Medea it was the fact that he could do nothing to make her back down. And now that she was a Prefect it would only get worse. "Fine," he said, but before relinquished his stare he added; "Don't get comfortable."

"I never do when you're around," she assured him.

Hyatt looked at her apologetically and pushed his cousin down the corridor. With one last look, Medea turned and made her way to the Prefect car, but she didn't plan to get comfortable.

When she entered the cabin she was glad to see a familiar face. One of her few friends, Glenn McFaley from Ravenclaw, was sitting quietly by the window like he usually did. "Hi, Glenn," she greeted and sat next to him. "I figured you'd be here."

"I don't know why," he said, smiling nervously. "Just because I behave doesn't mean I can make others do the same."

"The first years will learn by example then, if nothing else," she said positively. The comfortable silence they normally shared ensued for a few moments before Medea stood and went back out into the corridor. Just as she had suspected, there was Patrick standing in the doorway of a compartment, terrorizing a group of first years. "Potter!" she yelled. "Leave them alone."

He looked at her in wide-eyed surprise and backed away. "Malfoy," he seethed.

She walked up to him, closed the door to the first years' compartment, and looked him strait in the eye. "Every wrong move you make, I'll be there," she admonished. "Consider quitting now."

"I never quit," he told her, bringing himself to his full height so he towered over her.

She shrugged, "It is your choice, but consider yourself warned."

He smiled sarcastically. "Cheers, then." He turned from her and pushed Hyatt down the corridor in front of him.

"How does she always know?" Hyatt practically yelled when the boys rejoined Phaedra and Odile in their cabin. "We hadn't even done anything yet!"

"What do you mean?" Phaedra asked.

"We'd just opened the door when she came out and stopped us, like she knew what we were up to," Patrick clarified more calmly.

"Don't give her that much credit," Odile said. "Could it not have been mere coincidence?"

Hyatt shook his head. "That's the thing, she just went right back to her cabin."

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Phaedra got a Machiavellian grin on her pink lips. "I wonder," she whispered to herself in her soft, high voice.

All three looked over at her. "What?" they asked in unison.

"If we have…unique powers, we're supposed to tell the Head Mistress, right?"

"Yes, of course, so we can get the proper help and training," Hyatt said. "What's your point?"

Odile rolled her eyes and hit him upside the head. "Honestly. You're thinking she's a Legilimens, aren't you?"

"Precisely, and if she is she hasn't told anyone…"

Odile's eye narrowed in glee. "Wouldn't it be wonderful to catch the staunch rule keeper breaking a rule herself?"

Patrick sat up. "I don't think this is such a good idea," he said with obvious concern.

"Have you gone soft, Potter?" Phaedra teased.

He grabbed the liquorice wand out of her hand. "I was never that callous to begin with," he said quietly and glared at her. "You guys can scheme all you want, but I'll have no part in it."

Hyatt turned away so he could rummage up the courage to say; "Me neither, sorry ladies."

"And you call yourself a Weasley." Odile shook her head in disgust. "Patrick," she breathed in a mesmerizing voice, utilizing her Veela ancestry. "Malfoy has been a pain in our sides since we were first years. Wouldn't you like to catch her in some dodgy scheme?"

"Dile, it doesn't matter if the school finds out, if she truly is a Legilimens she can use her power whether the school is aware or not," Patrick pointed out. Besides, he'd never been out to get her like Odile. Malfoy was always the one in the right and she always had been.

Medea had made it a habit to surreptitiously study her roommates before she turned in and tonight the effort was actually prolific. The smallest grin split her lips as she went upstairs to set her trap. She pulled her bed curtains closed and cleaned up around her living space like she always did before she turned in. Only, she didn't turn in. She grabbed a book and returned to the Common room for her stake out.

She'd been reading for hours, nearly falling asleep, when the clock struck twelve. They weren't there yet, and she was beginning to wonder if they'd changed their minds without her knowing. But her fears were unfounded. She soon heard the shuffling of footsteps coming down the stairs and the echo of mischievous giggles.

"Evening ladies," Hyatt said when he met his cousins.

Medea smiled and stood up to face the perpetrators . "Evening Weasleys," she said and the whole group jumped.

"Merde!"

"Phaedra!" Patrick chastised.

"Going somewhere?" she asked in feigned ignorance.

"Not anymore," Patrick said quietly and pulled Hyatt back up the stairs to their dorm. "Goodnight, girls." Before he was out of sight he made eye contact with Medea and thought the same sentiment for her.

"Garce," Odile mumbled before she left.

But Medea didn't hear her. She fell back onto the couch and aimlessly searched the dark room. He hadn't said that, he most definitely hadn't said that; he'd thought it. And he'd thought it like he knew she would hear anyway. "He knows,"

The next weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend and Medea went directly to her mother's store. She purposely avoided the comic wall of the store and went to the back room to find Hermione. "Hi, mum, can I talk to you?"

"Oh, hello, love," she said with a quick smile. "Care to help? This day is always crazy and your father is getting your brother new robes. He grew out of his others already."

It was clear that her mother was busy and distracted, but she really needed the mother right now, not the storeowner. "I'll help, but I must talk to you first."

"What is it?" she asked distractedly and opened another box with her wand.

"Mum, stop thinking about your books for a few moments! Pay attention to me!" Medea said in aggravation.

This made Hermione look at her daughter. "I am paying attention to you."

"No, you're not. You're thinking about your new shipment of books, and your full book shop, and if dad will get the proper robes for Jarret; a size too big so he'll have room to grow."

Hermione stood up and slowly cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"I just know," Medea said quietly.

"Are you—"

Medea looked at her mother. "Yes, it's exactly what you're thinking."

Hermione walked toward her daughter with a sense of awe. "You can read minds," she whispered.

"Yes,"

"Why didn't you tell me, or your father, or someone?"

"I didn't want anyone to know," she admitted. "I was afraid of how people would deal with it. I'm not good at making friends anyway, but this would have made it worse."

"Unfortunately your father and I weren't very good at making friends either. So why are you telling me now?"

"I think someone knows," she revealed.

Hermione immediately became the concerned mother. "How? And who?"

"Patrick Potter."

"Potter?" her mother asked with wide, nervous eyes. "Patrick Potter knows you're a Legilimens?"

"I think so. See, I normally read him and the Weasley's before I turn in to see what they're up to, and the other night I stopped them from sneaking out. Well, when Patrick went up the stairs he looked at me and thought good night, and he thought it like he knew I could read it."

Hermione kissed Medea's forehead and pulled her into a warm hug. "It looks like you really need to tell Professor McGonagall. It's for your own good, so you can get the proper training."

"Fine." Medea nodded. "Okay, I will help on the floor until I have to go back."

"Thank you." Hermione cupped her daughter's face. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mum."

Medea nervously twisted her hands when she walked back into the school. She knew she had to tell the Head Mistress, and she knew that there was no time like the present.

"Miss Malfoy," a familiar voice said behind her.

She turned to see Professor McGonagall walking toward her. "Yes, Professor?" she asked, amazed at the fortuitous timing.

"Come to my office, please, I want to talk to you."

"Okay," Medea said and followed her, but her mind was racing. What could she possibly want to talk to her about? Medea hadn't even told her the secret yet.

"I had an interesting conversation with Odile and Phaedra Weasley today," Professor McGonagall said when she sat behind her desk in her office.

"Oh," Medea said, trying to hide her anxiety.

"They claimed that you had been cheating off of them by reading their minds."

"What?" Medea yelled before she could stop her self. "That's preposterous! Me cheat off of them! Those—two!"

"Miss Malfoy," McGonagall said purposefully. "I can't help but notice that you didn't deny the mind reading part of their claim."

"No, Professor."

"I assure you that I didn't believe for an instant that you would copy off of them," she told her. "But the mind reading accusation made me think. You are an excellent Prefect, and I have a theory as to—"

"I'll put your theory to rest," Medea told her guiltily. "I had a talk with my mother today in Hogsmeade and she advised me to tell you. I can read minds, I've known since third year but I was afraid to tell anyone."

The Head Mistress folded her hands on her desk. "The reason we ask our students to inform us of any unique powers is so that we may give them the proper training. We have your best interest in mind."

"I know," Medea admitted. "That's what my mother said. I was afraid that everyone would act weird around me if they knew I could read their mind."

"No one has to know, Miss Malfoy, telling your peers is up to you. But with training you can control your Legilimency so you have the choice to read someone's mind."

Medea sighed. "That would be wonderful! I'm so tired seeing things I really don't want to see!" she said with a distressed look.

McGonagall couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm sure. Well, I've actually got an instructor in mind for you. She was the last Legilimens I've met before you. I'll ask her and hopefully you can start lessons next week."

"So I'm not in trouble?" Medea asked, biting her lip anxiously.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, I'm an animagus; I understand that it's not easy to tell your Professor that something unusual is happening to you."

"Thank you. And I really was going to tell you. "

"I know, you're dismissed, Miss Malfoy."

When Medea walked into the Common room of the Gryffindor tower, the first thing she encountered was the Weasley cousins sitting in their corner laughing. But it stopped when she entered. As Medea walked near them, she felt a surprising surge of resentment toward the girls and decided to do something merely out of spite, something she tried hard to avoid. "Hey girls," she said condescendingly. "Just because the Head Mistress knows I can read your minds, doesn't mean she can stop me from reading your minds. Just think about that when you get the urge to tell someone."

"Oh, that girl!" Odile seethed when she had walked away.

Patrick shook his head. "I warned you, Dile. You don't mess with Malfoy," he said with the slightest hint of a chuckle. "What did you tell McGonagall anyway?"

"We told her we thought Malfoy was cheating off us by reading our minds," Phaedra admitted quietly.

Hyatt tried to hold in his laughter, but the effort was futile. "Wow, you two are even more thick than I thought."

Patrick just rolled his green eyes. "Wow."


	3. The Potter Problem

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

The Potter Problem 

Medea practically skipped down the corridor for her first Legilimens lesson of her sixth year. She could remember her first lesson like it was yesterday. She'd been so nervous until she had met her teacher…

_Medea bit her lips nervously as she walked into the classroom to meet her new Legilimency tutor. But her fears were put to rest when she saw the long, red braid of her new teacher. "Aunt Zofia?" she asked in astonishment._

_Zofia whipped around with wide, green eyes. "Medea? You're my student?"_

"_Yes, you're a Legilimens too?"_

"_Yes," Zofia laughed. "Shall we begin?"_

"_Wow, I didn't even know! Do my parents know?" Medea couldn't focus on the task at hand._

"_Yes, now we need to begin. Come on, McGonagall tells me my first order of business should be teaching you to block out other's thoughts. So let's get to it."_

Medea had never been nervous since that day, and now she only read what she wanted to read. And that included the Weasley's. A sudden frown came to her normally happy lips at the thought as she entered the classroom.

"Medea?" Zofia immediately asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really, I was just thinking about Potter and his cousins." She sat down across from her aunt with a frustrated sigh.

"Not as noble as his father was at that age, is he?" Zofia inquired with a small chuckle.

Her student's brown eyes widened exasperatedly. "Not one bit! I've taken ten points from him already, and I go in increments of five! Plus, they all have detention from me."

"In the first week?"

"No! That was just on the train here!" Medea exclaimed.

Zofia smiled. She knew they couldn't really help it; trouble making was in their DNA. "Come on, Medea, let's get to the lesson. We'll talk later."

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick could see Malfoy looking over at them; they'd be staying in bed tonight. The term had been in session for a month and she had foiled every attempt they'd made at some nocturnal fun. It was just like last year. She was a freakishly good Prefect because of her gift. Too bad she wasn't on their side…

Giving into a sudden ornery whim, Patrick looked directly at her and thought the most unsavory thought her could…about her. Her reaction was quite worth the traumatizing thought. Her jaw fell open and her pale cheeks slowly turned rosy pink. It was the first time he ever wondered what she was thinking.

"Ahg! That girl!" Odile exclaimed from his side.

"What?" Hyatt asked, lost as usual.

"Malfoy! She's looking over here," Phaedra clarified and crossed her arms. "I thought she was supposed to in lessons."

Both boys rolled their eyes simultaneously.

Odile glared in the pale Prefect's direction. "I've a right mind to announce her—condition—to the whole school."

"Are you really that thick?" Hyatt asked. "Now I don't think Malfoy is the devil but she could make your life hell if you told."

"All she can do is read my mind, and she does that anyway. Why shouldn't I tell?"

"Honestly," Patrick sighed irritably. "Do you want her to tell everyone everything you think? For instance, Odile, would you want her to announce the fact that you've secretly had a crush on Glenn the Geek since second—"

Odile's green eyes widened. "Oi! How did you—"

"See, you don't even want me to know, so think about that next time you get the urge to tell, okay?"

She glared at him. "I bet you're cahoots with her!"

Patrick ignored her. "Don't fault her for doing her job well."

"Go away!" Phaedra spat.

The boys decided to do just that. Their important homework was finished and they certainly didn't like being around the girls when they were testy. They passed the object of their conversation as they went to their dormitory. He caught her eyes and held them, telling her that she had nothing to worry about from the two of them. She looked him up and down with an unreadable expression then went back to her work.

Half way through and the year had been going great. Gryffindor was undefeated and well on their way to another Quidditch Cup, and they were also ahead in points by a good margin. Things were looking good. Even the Weasleys were on their best behavior.

But somehow Medea just knew it wouldn't last, and it didn't. The group had learned to scheme and execute before they ever came in contact with her. Only, with this new tactic, their schemes were less thought out and they got caught and stopped earlier than usual. But not by Medea so even more points were taken from Gryffindor and steadily losing their lead.

Expect today. See left the library earlier than usual and ran straight into Patrick, and he was up to something. "Potter!"

"Sorry, I didn't do it on purpose," he defended.

"You're planning something," she whispered, furiously searching his thoughts. "Please, don't—"

Suddenly his mien changed; he was angry. He inquired harshly, "Does privacy mean anything you?"

"Stopping you is my job!" she returned. "You're so selfish; don't you realize that you're hurting your whole house when you do this? You should be happy I catch you because I don't take as many points! We're going to lose if you don't stop."

Her logic was so thorough that he couldn't think of any possible response that wouldn't sound stupid. So he just stared down at her, seething.

"Just stop. Please, I am begging you! Just stop," she whispered emphatically.

He could see the pleading in her brown eyes and somewhere deep in his soul a chord was struck without him knowing. She was finally starting to affect change in him. "Fine," he practically spat. "You won't hear a peep."

And she didn't.

The next time Medea had a lesson she entered the room with a smile on her face. And her aunt noticed. "You look happy today."

"I am happy today, life is—getting better," she confirmed with a smile and a nod.

"Oh, is it about a boy?" Zofia asked in her happy aunt voice.

"In a way," Medea evaded.

"I won't tell your mum if that's what you're afraid of."

"It's nothing, really. I just—I think that my Potter problem it fixed."

But the next school year would bring another Potter problem that she could never have imagined possible.


	4. The Truth

A/N: Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**The Truth**

"Just think, mum, this is the last time we'll do this," Medea comforted after she kissed her mother's cheek. Her mother looked exactly like she had the first time Medea had set out for Hogwarts seven years ago, shining eyes and all. In fact, it seemed like she hadn't aged a day since her wedding, or so Medea gathered from the pictures.

Hermione smiled at her grown daughter. "That's little comfort; you're a grown woman now."

Turning to her father, she gave him and hug and a kiss and boarded the familiar train. This year, though, she already knew where she was going to sit; she was Head Girl.

Medea went strait there. Since she'd spent most of her school days in the library, mostly to avoid the ruckus made by the Weasley cousins in the common room, she didn't really have friends. But one of the few she did have was a shy Ravenclaw boy who was now Head Boy. Needless to say, she was happily content.

Glenn smiled up at her shyly when she entered the cabin. "Hello," he greeted in his soft, low voice.

"Hello, ready for this year?" she challenged as the trained started down the track.

He shook his head.

"It'll be fine, I've got a feeling," she comforted. He looked absolutely petrified. Glenn was an excellent wizard and obedient to the core, but he wasn't the best at making others the same way, but Medea had faith in him.

For the rest of the ride, Medea had her nose buried in her Advanced Runes book.

"You should've been in Ravenclaw," Glenn said about a half an hour before the came upon the school.

She smiled sweetly. "I guess the Sorting Hat didn't think so."

Before he could say anything more, their attention was drawn to the corridor outside. Medea set her book aside and pulled the door open. Sure enough, there was Patrick Potter holding a frog over a first year's head. "Potter!" she yelled.

He glared at her, but relinquished the frog as she approached. "What? No harm done." He challenged her with a cocked eyebrow.

"Potter," she spat venomously. "Don't make me take points from my own house this year. Merlin knows I had to do it enough last term."

He shrugged. "Then don't."

"Listen, I don't know what's got your knickers in a twist, but I'm quite fed up with it. Either you and your cousins behave this year, or you'll never see the inside of the Quidditch pitch," she threatened.

His eyes darkened. "You wouldn't."

She stepped closer so they were nose to nose. "Try me."

Patrick backed down at this. If he knew one thing about Medea Malfoy it was that she was a woman of her word. If she said she would give him detention all season, she would. And he was the captain this year; he had a family tradition to carry on…from both sides of the family.

"Fine," He put his hands up in surrender. "You won't even know I'm here."

"Let's see that I don't." She glared at him as he retreated down the corridor behind the other three of the quartet.

When she shut the door to the Head's compartment, she tried to ignore Glenn's huge eyes.

"Who does she think she is?" Odile yelled when they returned to their seats.

Hyatt snorted. "Head Girl."

Both Phaedra and Odile glared at him in unison.

"She won't do it," Odile continued confidently as she fell onto the seat. "She won't jeopardize our chances at the Quidditch Cup or the House Cup. She's a Malfoy, and deep down, she only wants glory."

"Pack it in, Dile, that's just your father talking," Hyatt countered. "Besides, she's only half Malfoy."

"That's true," Phaedra agreed, surprisingly. "But her mother can't be much better if she _married_ a Malfoy."

Odile rolled her silver-blue eyes. "Either way, she won't do it."

"Yes, she will," Patrick said quietly from window. All three of them looked to their unofficial leader. Patrick wasn't the oldest, and he wasn't even the tallest anymore, but they all looked to him for everything. He commanded authority in his whole house even though he'd never even been a prefect. "And she won't hesitate. She doesn't care about glory, she cares about education and if I get in the way of anyone's education, she'll do it without a second thought."

The compartment remained quite after that.

But Patrick's mind was in utter chaos. He'd seen something in those furious, challenging orbs. He was at least ten centimeters taller than her, but she hadn't been intimidated by him in the least. She had stood up to him because she knew it was right. How could someone like that be bad?

Medea led the group of scared first years up the many staircases to the Gryffindor Tower. She'd done this last year and she felt a small pang at the realization that this would be the last time she'd see a new group of witches and wizards begin their education.

After giving her speech to the trembling lot and showing them to their dorms, she set out for her new residence. She would have a room to herself this year, and share a common room with only one other person._ And no more Weasleys_, she mused with a smile.

And then it happened. It happened so fast that she hardly knew what was going on until she was being tackled to the floor. First there was a loud creak and then…"Medea!" and then she was on the stone floor with someone on top of her.

"What in the—" she began, and then she looked around the load on top of her. The massive axe from the knight along the wall was now lodged in the floor…right where she'd been standing. Someone had just saved her life.

Her savior rolled off of her and stood up. Medea froze as he reached a hand down to help her up. He smiled shyly when she didn't take it, his green eyes twinkling. "It's just a hand."

"Y-you just saved my life," she managed in her astonishment.

He shrugged and shook his hand until she grasped it. He pulled up and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Don't mention it," he whispered and released her.

Medea stared at the back of his dark auburn head as he walked down the corridor. "You just saved my life," she whispered again even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "Patrick."

Medea tried not to stare, she really did, it just didn't work. There they sat in Advanced Potions, working on a complicated potion from the book, and she was staring at Patrick Potter. He was the only one of the group in this class; no doubt he wanted to be an Auror like his father. But of all the classes she'd had with him, this was the only one he'd ever actually concentrated in.

"Miss Malfoy," Professor Selene said from above her, and apparently not for the first time. "Are you finished?"

Medea looked from her cauldron to the Professor. "Yes."

The young Professor bent over the cauldron and inspected its contents. "Looks good," she said. "I'll go test it, but it seems to be correct." She smiled and before she walked away she whispered, "I think Potter over there could use some help."

Her first impulse was to explain that she was merely staring at him in contempt, but it was a flimsy lie and she knew it. She walked to his table, but then she didn't know what to do. He'd never admit that he needed her help and she wasn't subtle or manipulative.

Then he looked up. "Go away, Malfoy."

She crossed her arms and looked at his boogy green, bubbling potion. "I was just going to offer my assistance."

"I don't need it," he retorted distractedly.

"Coulda fooled me." And she walked away, feeling his green daggers stabbing her back the whole way. _Well_, she thought, _that fixed that problem_. Only, that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Patrick glared down at his cauldron. _You should've just listened_, his brain yelled at him, _because you have to do well in this class if you have any hopes of being an Auror. _He knew his father had only gotten through because of his friend. But Medea wasn't his friend. _She could be if you'd be nice_, a voice inside his head said. "Where did that came from?" he mumbled to himself. But the truth was he knew exactly where it had come from, he just didn't want to admit it.

Patrick sat in the Great Hall with his cousins for lunch like he had for so many years. They carried on conversations around him, but he wasn't listening; he hardly ever did. The girls normally complained about how their boyfriends were immature and that they only cared about Quidditch, and Hyatt complained about the fact that they didn't care about Quidditch enough, even though they were part of Gryffindor's team. Patrick never worried about it; they'd gotten their game together and helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup for the past three years.

A sixth year Ravenclaw girl waved at him from her table and Patrick nodded to her impassively. He didn't consider himself a jerk when it came to girls, and he didn't think anyone who really knew him did either; he just wasn't interested in them. He snorted to himself. _That's not completely true_, he thought.

Then Hyatt jabbed him in the ribs roughly. He turned to him with a scowl. "Whaahhhh!" He didn't need an explanation when he saw a livid pair of chocolate eyes glaring down at him.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, her pale nostrils flaring in anger.

"What?" he asked desperately. "I didn't do anything!" And, for once, he was telling the truth.

Her eyes widened; it was pretty scary. "Yes, you did!" she shrieked. "You sa—"

"Malfoy! Stop!" he cut her off; he understood what she meant now and he didn't want anyone else to hear it. Plenty of people were looking as it was. He left the bench so he towered over her, but he'd forgotten that his height had no effect on her. "Let's go."

He didn't give her time to protest before he walked out the doors of the Great Hall and away from prying eyes.

"Why did you do it?" She crossed her arms and bore into him with her turbulent eyes.

"I wasn't really in the mood to see someone get spilt in half by a massive axe, but next time I might just be up for the show," he answered sarcastically.

If possible, she looked even more furious. "Bastard," she spat.

Well, what did she want from him? He never understood women. "I wasn't just going to watch you die! What kind of person do you think I am?" Okay, maybe he didn't want to hear her answer on that one.

"So it was just some latent heroism showing through?"

Somehow he knew that it wasn't a good thing in her eyes. "Yeah, maybe, after all, my father did save the world from Lord Voldemort."

This brought a strange smile to her surprisingly pink lips.

That smile made him uneasy. "You know, when I said don't mention it I meant don't mention it."

"Oh, right, so if it was just some random act of inherited heroism then why don't you want your cousins to know?" she challenged.

Yep, he'd right about that smile, it was definitely not a good thing. He was stumped. His cousins always disliked her a great deal more than he had even though she was always getting on him and not them.

She just nodded at his silence and turned on her heels.

"Medea, Wait." He went after her and waited for her to turn back around. After that it all just seemed to spill out of his mouth. "Listen, I'm not supposed to like you, alright? And if they knew I did, I'd never hear the end of it. Then they'd tell my parents and then I'd get the same crap at home."

"But you don't like me," she reminded him. Maybe she did have a little manipulation in her; she fervently wanted to hear him say that he liked her, at least a little bit.

He hesitated; it was obvious that he didn't want to tell her. "Well…"

"What?" she prompted.

Then Patrick saw it. There was a glint of something in her eyes that he'd never seen before. Granted, she normally looked at him with frustration or fury, but not this time. There was lighthearted, giddy, girlish hope; She was fishing. Well, he could too. "What do you want from me, Medea?" he asked softly, purposefully.

She was surprised by this, but she was ready nevertheless. "The truth."

Oh, well, so much for fishing. They might have been students, but they were also adults, and this game was silly. He shrugged. "Alright," He looked around to make sure no one had followed them and pulled her further away from the doors for good measure. "Here's the truth, I don't understand it, but I give you my word that it's true. I like you, I do, but I'm not supposed to."


	5. Family Issues

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Family Issues**

Medea looked at him in confusion. She didn't understand why he wasn't supposed to like her. It never once occurred to her that he'd grown up hearing about "_the Malfoys_" from his whole family, and how he should avoid them and their daughter at all costs. She never imagined that his father the hero had told him that her parents, who were just as heroic in their own right, were to be looked upon with contempt.

They didn't know it, but they were both lost when it came to their parents' pasts.

She let her school girl game go and let her pain show in her eyes. "Why aren't you supposed to like me?"

He just shrugged again. "You're a Malfoy," he answered simply.

"Oh, well, that's a good reason! What is this, Romeo and Juliet?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. What's wrong with being a Malfoy?" she asked with forced calmness.

"I don't know! That's just what my family says, Uncle Ron especially. Something about dark magic and Death Eaters and betraying friends." He couldn't look her in the eye, it was too painful.

"What are you talking about?" she asked angrily. Surely he was lying; there couldn't be Death Eaters in her family, her parents had fought against them. "Why are you making this up?"

"I'm not!" Patrick defended himself. "You can ask Odile, she hears it all the time, too."

"I can't believe I trusted you, you prat!" Then she turned around violently and ran away.

"Just brilliant!"

Medea ran through the corridors blindly. She could've passed ten students practicing forbidden curses and she wouldn't have noticed. She only stopped when she noticed the Headmistress coming toward her. She realized she could ask the Headmistress all of the questions that were now swimming through her brain.

"Professor McGonagall?" she asked timidly.

"Yes, Miss Malfoy?"

"Could I ask you a few questions about my parents?"

"Of course. What do you want to know?"

Medea scanned the area before she asked, "Were they Death Eaters?"

"Heavens, no!" she exclaimed. "You're mother was some of Voldemort's greatest opposition in the war! Why do you ask, my dear?"

She looked down in embarrassment. "I just heard someone talking about Malfoy Death Eaters."

This made the Professor uneasy and she hesitated slightly. "Well, your mother isn't a Malfoy."

"So there were? My father…?" She could barely ask it, let alone believe it.

"Miss Malfoy, I don't know if should be the one to answer these questions. I will say that your mother was the best thing that happened to your father, but other than that you need to ask them." Then she began to move down the hall again.

Medea knew the Professor was right, but she was still disappointed. The last thing she wanted to do was ask her parents, _"So tell me, were you a Death Eater way back when?" _Somehow she just knew that wouldn't go over so well.

So she took advantage of her free period and went to her most reliable source: the library. Many would find it unbelievable, but she'd never read the accounts of "the Boy Who Lived" or the account of the war. But she had a feeling that those were the resources she'd need.

She went straight to the account of the war. She flipped through the chapters until she found what she was looking for. There was a bio-sketch of her father; it said he'd gone against generations of Malfoys and fought for the right side, putting his life in more danger than almost everyone else because the Death Eaters, his parents included, never let anyone out of their ranks.

It took all of her will power not to slam the book shut and throw it across the room. She was the descendant of Death Eaters. Her grandparents, whom she had just assumed were dead, had been the worst kind of sorcerers.

No wonder this book wasn't in the library at home. She walked out of the library numbly and somehow made it to the Head's common room. She had Herbology next, but she knew she'd never be able to get there. She couldn't even leave the couch. Hopefully Professor Longbottom would understand.

"Well, I guess little miss perfect isn't so perfect after all." Hyatt smiled mischievously as Patrick fell into the chair next to him.

"What're you talking about?" he asked distractedly.

Phaedra answered, "Malfoy wasn't in Herbology today. Skipped class, I bet."

Hyatt's grin widened. "Who's willing to wager that Glenn the Geek wasn't in History of Magic?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

Odile turned to him with a traumatized look. "Eww, that is disgusting!"

He laughed and punched Patrick's shoulder to get his approval. "Sod off, Hyatt," he whispered angrily.

The three of them looked at him incredulously. "What's got his wand in a knot?" Phaedra asked with a glare.

Patrick stood up and numbly walked out of the common room. Something was up and he had the sinking feeling that it related to what he'd told her that afternoon. There was only one person that would know where she was, and he would most likely be in the library at this time.

Sure enough, he was the first person that Patrick saw when he entered the quite room. He approached the table slowly; the last thing he wanted to do was scare him. Even though he was Head Boy, he was pretty jumpy. And since him and his cousins had not so affectionately referred to him as Glenn the Geek since they were twelve, Patrick had to pull out all the stops.

"Hey Glenn," he greeted in his most jovial voice.

Glenn jumped anyway. "H-hello, Potter."

"Could I ask a favor of you?" Patrick asked immediately.

"Sure."

"Could you tell me where Mal—Medea is?"

Glenn looked at him in confusion. "She's in our common room. Why?"

"Was she okay when you saw her?" he asked quickly.

But he shrugged. "I don't know, it was weird. It was like she didn't even see me."

Patrick closed his eyes. Something was wrong. "Could you take me to her?"

Glenn wasn't so enthusiastic about this request. "I don't think—"

"Please," Patrick whispered desperately. "I know I've been a total prat to you since we've been in school, but I need your help. I really need to talk to her. I think I might have caused this."

After Glenn got over his obvious shock, he looked around anxiously and then nodded. "Alright, but you can't tell anyone where it is."

"Course not," he agreed.

Glenn didn't say anything as he led Patrick through the corridors. He understood completely, though, because he and his cousins had never been fans of authority, especially from people their own age. In fact, they'd probably given him several nightmares over the years. Along the same lines, Patrick could also understand Glenn's shock at his sincerity. But he wasn't a complete heathen; his parents had instilled morals and values in him, it had just taken awhile for him to put them into action.

Glenn stopped in front of a portrait of a milkmaid and muttered, "_Veritas_."

Patrick saw her as soon as he walked in the room. She was sitting eerily still on the couch and staring strait in front of her. He noticed that Glenn looked concerned. "She hasn't moved," he whispered in explanation.

And she didn't move until he sat on the coffee table directly in front of her. "Medea?" he said softly.

Without warning her eyes filled with tears. "Why did you have to tell me?" she asked through her constricted throat. "I was just fine not knowing."

In an impulse that was utterly new and foreign to him, Patrick wiped the tear that fell from her eye and held her cheek. "I'm sorry, really, I just assumed you knew."

She sniffed. "Do you know everything about your father?"

He smirked. "Who doesn't?"

"I've got the feeling that my parents made it so I wouldn't find out."

"Haven't you read the account of the war? I mean there's bio-sketch of your family, it's riddled with dark wizards." He'd only assumed she'd read them, considering that she always had her nose in a book.

But she shook her head. "I never knew, I never read them. I mean, they're not even in the library at home and my mum wrote them."

Patrick frowned in confusion. "Your mum? Your mother is Hermione Granger?" he asked incredulously.

"Well Malfoy now, but yes. You looked surprised." By this time Medea had almost forgotten her disgust at her ancestors; she was too focused on the interesting turn the conversation was taking.

"Of course I'm surprised! If she wrote the Boy Who Lived about my father then they must have been friends." His brow furrowed. "If they were friends, then why does he hate the Malfoy name so much?"

"Merlin, does he actually say that?"

Patrick shrugged. "In so many words. Now Uncle Ron says it right out. Do yours say anything about my family?"

"No, they don't talk about the past. They say it's better that way; it's makes them happier, I guess." She smiled at the memories of seeing just parents just smile at each other, completely content.

"Hmm, I think my whole family could learn a lesson from that."

Now she smiled at him. "It's always served us well; we're happy just being our little family."

"I don't understand this," Patrick admitted after a length of silence. "But it doesn't change anything. I like you, I'm admitting out loud."

"Are you going tell your cousins?" she challenged seriously.

"That depends. How do you feel about me?" he questioned in an equally serious tone. "Because if it's hopeless I don't see why they would need to know."

She looked away from him as blush crept up into her cheeks. "Well, I've got bad news. Since there's no way that I would carry on a secret relationship with you, you're going to have to tell them."

He smirked. "You really had me going there," he teased. But his face turned pensive and he leaned closer to her. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

"What will our parents say?" she asked breathlessly.

Patrick gently pressed his lips to hers before he whispered, "They'll have to deal with it."


	6. Getting to know you

**A/N**: Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Getting To Know You**

"Aren't you coming?" Phaedra asked the next morning as the group walked in the Great Hall for breakfast.

"No," Patrick answered. "I'm waiting for someone."

Hyatt wagged his dark eyebrows. "Have fun."

Patrick saw both girls ask Hyatt if he knew anything when they thought he wasn't looking. He shook his head. They'd find out soon enough if all went well.

He swore he'd been standing there for hours when he finally saw the pale blonde head he'd been waiting for. He ran up to her with an anxious smile. "Good morning."

She surprised him by kissing his cheek. It was quick, but it calmed him down a great deal. "Good morning." She bit her bottom lip coyly. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes, I thought maybe we could tell my cousins today."

Her smile faded and her eyes moved nervously to the entrance of the Great Hall. "In front of everyone? I mean, do really think that's wise."

"My hope is that they won't make a scene in front of everyone, but I could be wrong," he admitted.

Medea desperately wanted to believe him, after all they were his cousins, but somehow she doubted it would work out that way.

He took her hand and pulled her toward the door. It took a great deal of courage for her to keep her legs moving. As they walked through the tables hand in hand no one seemed to notice, until they got to the Gryffindor table. Then the silence slowly began to permeate.

Odile was the first to speak. "What are you _doing_?"

Everyone, even Medea, looked to Patrick for the answer. "Odile, Phaedra, Hyatt, Medea is my girlfriend."

Medea almost laughed as one jaw after another dropped down the Gryffindor table. She had never done anything to make her peers drop their jaws, and that was probably why she was Head Girl. But now she was in her last year and she was finally living a little. Plus, finally having a boyfriend wasn't bad.

"This is a joke, right?" Odile asked.

"Please tell us you're under the influence of something," Phaedra said almost desperately.

Patrick shook his head. "No," he said. "I just thought you should know."

He pulled Medea to an open bench and they sat down to eat. "They're still staring at us," she whispered. "They don't like me, Patrick, they never have."

"But I do, very much, so they'll have to deal with it." And he went back to his breakfast.

Medea lost her appetite. Mostly everyone had gone back to their food, but they would glance their direction every so often. She knew they were still talking about them.

"Patrick?" she said after she'd sat there for a few minutes.

He looked up with a smile that looked a little too big. "Yes?"

"Uh, why do you like me?" she asked nervously. "I mean, what changed?"

His smile shrank, but it became genuine. "Because you stand up for what you believe in, even when you know it's unpopular. You have passion."

A blush crept into her cheeks at his compliments. The only people who'd ever complimented her were her parents and grandparents. "Oh,"

"What changed for you?"

She shrugged. In all honesty, she couldn't pinpoint what exactly had changed except the fact that he'd risked his life to save hers. "I guess I just realized you were actually a good person underneath the troublemaker."

He smirked as if being called a troublemaker was a compliment.

Patrick finished up his breakfast and once again took Medea's hand as they left the Hall. They had potions together and then they both had a free period before lunch. In Potions, Professor Selene refused to let the two of them sit together. She'd apparently heard about the goings on at breakfast already and hadn't even let them get the question out. Medea, of course, knew it was for the best. She knew she wouldn't get anything done if Patrick was right beside her. But she still didn't like it.

As usual Medea was done at least ten minutes before the rest of the class. "You're such a natural," the Professor said with a smile. She looked over to Patrick; she could see his bubbling potion from there. "Do you suppose he'll listen to you today?"

Medea was happy to get up and walk over to his table. She didn't say anything, she just smiled down at his concentrated face. He was so cute when he was frustrated. "Could I offer my advice?" she asked with a soft smile.

He looked up with an affectionate scowl. "If I say no will you tell me anyway?"

She rolled her brown eyes. "Men. If you cut this into strips before you put it in, it'll stop the boiling."

He nodded and immediately began to cut the dried skin into thick strips.

"Thin strips," she whispered.

He grunted and cut the thick strips into several smaller ones. He mumbled threats to the potion the whole time, but when he threw the strips in a smile crept to his lips; the potion immediately calmed to a gentle simmer. "Brilliant."

"The trick with the Dragon's blood is to add a drop then stir, add a drop then stir and so on."

He stared at her in amazement. "How do you figure these things out?"

She shrugged. "Just makes sense. I used to bake cookies… never mind, I'll tell you later." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

By the time Patrick finished his potion, Professor Selene gave it her seal of approval.

When class was over, Patrick eagerly pulled Medea up to the Gryffindor Tower for their free period. She had the feeling she'd be spending more time there than she had her other years, and she didn't even live there anymore.

"Don't your cousins have their free periods now too?" she asked nervously.

"Just Hyatt."

She couldn't help but be relived. Of all the Weasleys, she knew that he'd be the most accepting. If she remembered correctly she'd actually met his parents, Fred and Angelina, at her mother's bookstore.

Patrick pulled her into a chair just as Hyatt walked through the portrait hole. He proved Medea right when he whistled at them. "The girls swear they're never going to talk to you again," he warned his cousin.

He pouted his lip. "So sad, really."

"They'll probably have my head for this, but I say it's about time."

They both looked at him with questioning smiles. "What's that supposed to mean?" Patrick asked.

He shook his head. "Come on, there has been tension between you two since we were eleven. I'll say it again, it's about time." He winked at Patrick and then ran up to his room.

"He's mental!" Medea laughed.

But Patrick smiled; he knew he wasn't _that_ crazy. "You were about to tell me why you're so good at potions."

"Yes, before I started school, I would always help my mum bake cookies the muggle way. We'd go to muggle London and buy all these cook books and make all of this stuff." She smiled at the memories. "Course, we never ate all of it. Most of the time she would set them out in the store for the customers. But now that I think about it, she was preparing me for potions."

"My mum taught me spells and my dad taught me to fly."

"Predictable."

"Yeah, well, it got me on the team, didn't it?" he reminded her with a smirk. "And it's won us—"

"Three Quidditch Cups," she finished. "I know. And my mum preparing me for potions and the like has helped us win the House Cup for—"

"All seven years," he finished. "I know."

She smiled shyly and bit her bottom lip. "That's pretty much all we know about each other, isn't it?"

Patrick turned to her and stuck out his hand. "I'm Patrick Potter. I'm an only child, but I have a huge family. I've been the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years; I'm told that seeking is in my blood. I want to train to be an Auror, which you may find ironic considering that I break an average of ten school rules a year for no reason. I've never really taken an interest in girls until now, and, especially considering that I know you can read my mind, frankly you still scare me."

Medea tentatively shook his hand and just stared at him.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?" he pouted.

"Okay, I guess I'll play your little game. I'm Medea Malfoy. I have a six-year-old brother named Jarret, and as far as I know I have an extremely small family, but I could be wrong. I was a prefect my fifth and sixth years and now I'm Head Girl. I love Potions, Herbology, and Arithmancy, but I'm not really sure what I want to do as a career. I speak five languages because my mum used to work for the Ministry in International relations. And I've always secretly envied you and your cousins because you were friends."

Patrick smiled. "Nice to meet you."

She looked at him seriously. "So what happens now?"


	7. Time Flies

A/N: Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Time Flies**

Phaedra and Odile kept true to their promise…for about a month, which was actually quite a record for them. They'd finally decide to talk to the boys, but then they'd see them sitting in the common room with Medea and they'd be renewed with their anger and walk out with their pretty, French noses in the air.

But then the Quidditch season started; practice nearly everyday. Then their silence became a chore, which was something they loathed. The two chasers even found they had to avoid the rest of the team because the rest of the team wanted to be around Patrick and Hyatt. It didn't help that Medea now made an appearance at every practice, her nose in a book as they flew around above her.

But right before their first match it changed. The two emerged from the locker room to see Medea waiting for them. At first they moved to ignore her, but soon realized that the boys had trapped them. They glared at them first then turned to Medea with the same expression.

"I don't expect you to say anything," she began. "But I would appreciate it if you'd listen. I never wanted to come between you and Patrick. I don't know why you don't like me, but frankly, I don't care. Patrick and Hyatt miss you, and I know you miss them. Please just put up with me, because you'll regret it if you don't. It's not worth your friendship and your family. "

They crossed their arms and appraised her in unison. Phaedra was beginning to understand what Patrick saw in the pale intellectual; she had a love of justice. Medea was right, she missed her cousins and it wasn't worth it, she knew this. Besides, someone who would say something like that, something completely selfless, just couldn't be bad.

But Odile wasn't easily swayed. Her whole life she'd heard about the Malfoys. Her father never gave details, but she'd been told that anyone with the name of Malfoy was not to be trusted. Man, woman, or child, it didn't matter; they were wicked through and through. And to her it didn't matter what Medea said, she was a Malfoy and there was simply no excuse for that.

"Alright," Phaedra said. "You're right, this immature."

Odile turned on her with wide-eyed anger. "What!" she shrieked. "How can you say that? How can you even think it?" To Odile there was no greater form of treason.

"This is asinine, Dile. I miss them, and if Medea can come to us like this, then she's obviously not the person you've been deluded into thinking she must be," Phaedra told her matter-of-factly.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she nearly growled in her husky voice.

Shaking her head, Phaedra moved toward the boys. "You can be miserable on your own."

As tears began to well up in her eyes, Odile ran past them and went straight to her room. When Medea and Phaedra walked in together about an hour later, the curtains around Odile's bed were drawn.

By the next week, Odile was ready to suck in her pride and apologize. She _was_ miserable and she knew that she was the only one causing it; it was silly to keep blaming Medea.

She sighed deeply before she approached the intimidating group. It was truly the scariest thing she'd ever done in her life. The group fell silent when she approached and stared her down. "I, er," she stammered.

Medea smiled. "Would you like to join us?"

Odile nodded. "_Oui_."

"Okay, come, sit." She motioned for Hyatt and Phaedra to part so Odile could join them.

After that everything seemed completely fine, at school anyway. The only problem was that both teens knew their families wouldn't take the news so well. Well, in all honesty, Medea had no idea how her parents would take it because she'd never heard them talk about the Weasleys or the Potters, but she had a feeling it wouldn't go over well.

As the school year progressed, Patrick and Medea grew closer; the whole lot of them grew closer. None of them wanted to be reminded of the fact that it was all coming to a close, and very soon. Here they could all be friends and no one cared. Patrick and Medea could walk through the corridors hand in hand and no one cared. They wanted to forget that there was a world out there that anyone would think twice about it.

But there was a world like that out there, and they were coming closer and closer to rejoining it.

Before they knew it, Patrick was running with the Quidditch Cup over his head. He had kissed Medea in front of the whole school and dedicated it to her with a whisper. Then they were being awarded the House Cup, with a new record of points. Exams were over and the day had finally come for them to leave school for good. None of them were ready.

"Come on, Medea," Odile yelled. "We'll miss the train!"

Medea hugged Professor Selene then caught up with Odile as they ran to join the rest on the train. Patrick pulled her down the corridor and into a compartment with Hyatt and Phaedra and Odile soon followed them inside. "I can't believe we won't be coming back in September," Medea said as she snuggled up to Patrick.

They all agreed solemnly. "What are you going to do?" Phaedra finally asked.

Everyone looked at her with lost looks. "About what?"

"We've been ignoring it, but now it's going to be reality. Patrick, you know your parents aren't going to like this," she said.

"And if that's any indication," Odile added to Medea. "Your parents probably won't either."

Medea looked out the window. She knew they were going to have problems from here on out, but now she actually had to face it. "I don't know how they'll feel."

Hyatt, who had been quite, spoke up. "Whatever happens, we'll support you." Both girls agreed.

"Thanks guys," Patrick said.

Then they began to plan. The obvious and best possibility was for them to both move out and away from their parents watchful eyes. The only problem was that this was also the hardest route because they needed jobs and places to live. They did have another option, which involved a great deal of lying, but they'd already decided they would do what ever it took.

"It'll be easy," Odile, who'd apparently had some experience with lying to her parents, said. "I'll write you a letter, under a different name, of course, and invite you somewhere and the three of us will just go anyway. Our parents are pretty lenient when it's the four of us."

"Dad's got a summer home," Patrick reminded them. "That would be perfect."

Medea's nod was only half-hearted. "But that's only once a month, if that. I don't want to wait that long. I mean, you guys are my only friends."

"We haven't got any other ideas and we're about to pull into London," Phaedra warned.

Then tears began to collect in all their eyes. Knowing that their parents would be there to greet them, they all hugged Medea one at a time, leaving Patrick for last. She cried on his shoulder, not wanting to ever let go of him. "I'll write you everyday, I promise," he whispered.

The train pulled to a stop as she replied. "I'll write back everyday."

They shared a long kiss as everyone else filed through the corridor. "We have to leave eventually."

She nodded. "Right. Good-bye, Patrick."

"Bye."

Medea saw her parents and, even though she was happy to see them, she was mostly pretending smiles as she hugged them and left with one last look at Patrick.

"Are you happy it's over?" her mother asked as they walked through Muggle London to the Leaky Cauldron.

"No," she said honestly. "I'm gonna miss it."

Patrick kept good on his promise to write everyday, starting as soon as he was alone in his room. He told her everything he was thinking, which only took three pages. He'd never even written an essay that long in school.

He tied the letter to his owl and gave it the specific instructions Medea had given him on the train. After watching the jet-black owl fly off into the sky, he fell back onto his bed. He felt a growing knot in his stomach, something he'd never felt before. Being able to spend time with Medea everyday had spoiled him, now he didn't even know when he'd see her the next time.

Suddenly, he had to see her.

He left his room, careful to avoid his parents, and got one of the several family owls. They weren't as good as his own owl, Alba, but one would get the job done. He ran back to his room, scratched a short note and sent the owl on his way.

Only, in his haste, he forgot to explain the special instructions, and simply told it Malfoy Manor.


	8. Don't Tell Mum

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

Don't Tell Mum 

Draco walked down the main corridor of his ancient family manor. It was good to have his daughter home, but considering that she was finished with her schooling now, it was bittersweet. And it didn't help that from the moment she'd stepped off the train he had sensed a change in her.

As he swept past the front door, a letter slid under it. Even though this wasn't an unusual thing per se, it still caught his attention. Especially when he saw his daughter's name scrawled on the small note in an unrecognizable hand. If he recalled correctly, no one had ever written his daughter with the exception of the school.

He didn't really know why he did it, maybe it was his childhood habits coming back to him, but he looked around before he bent down to pick it up. The note was simply folded and creased, so it was all too easy for Draco to unfold the parchment and read the note. It read: _I can't stand this, I have to see you. Come out at midnight, I'll apparate to your front yard. Desperately—_

Then Draco let the paper fall to the floor. Surely he hadn't read that. It just couldn't have been that name…that last name. Reluctantly he retrieved the note from the floor and looked at the elaborate signature once more. It said Patrick _Potter_.

Unbelievable.

Suddenly, he didn't know what to do. What if it was a cruel joke? He knew from experience that kids could be cruel, and when love was mentioned, it was the worst kind. What if that's what this Potter was doing? Of course, he knew Medea could handle it. She'd grown up with two ostracized parents; they'd taught her to have thick skin.

But what worried him most was what seemed to him the least possible explanation. What if this Potter really meant what he said? He'd always been very close with Medea and the prospect of her keeping something from him hurt more than the thought that she was carrying on with a Potter.

He ultimately decided to let Medea deal with it; then he'd know what was really going on. He climbed the staircase and walked back to her room. Luckily it was empty, so he put the letter on her bed, hoping it looked like an owl had just dropped it.

The one problem that still plagued him was weather or not he should tell his wife.

As Medea walked back to her room, she was floating on cloud nine. She mentally ran over Patrick's note, remembering every word and emotions described by them. She could clearly see the curve of his penmanship and the things written between the lines that he was still to shy to say to her.

When she closed the door to her bedroom, she immediately pulled the letter out of her pocket and read over it again. But as she blithely fell onto her bed, paper crinkled under her. Rolling on her side, she picked up the small, folded piece of parchment. She recognized Patrick's hand and another smile came to her face. She read the brief message and held it to her chest.

Midnight. Her parents were usually in bed by that time, and even if they weren't asleep their room was far enough away from the front door that she could easily sneak out, since she couldn't apparate out of the house. She looked at the bewitched Muggle alarm clock on her nightstand; it was only half past seven. How could she wait that long? The short hours had already been agony.

But she made it through by looking for a new job. If she ever wanted to get out of the house and be free to see Patrick whenever she wanted, she had to have an income. And with her potion skills, she should be able to find something.

After looking at her clock for the hundredth time, it finally struck twelve. She hopped up from her chair and crept out of her room. A light still shone under her parent's door at the other end of the hall so she walked slowly and silently down the stairs and out the door. Then she was home free. The moon was full and she could clearly see her copious yard. He wasn't there yet.

She frowned. He had said midnight, hadn't he? She sat on the grass and stared at the forest that surrounded the estate. Maybe her clock was ahead. He'd be there.

Sure enough, eventually she heard a soft voice. "Medea?"

She jumped up with a smile. "Over here!" she said as loud as she dared.

He appeared out of the trees and had her in his arms in no time. "Medea, this is killing me."

"I know, I know, but it's just until we can move out on our own."

He shook his head as it rested against her forehead. "That's not good enough, I want to marry you."

She took a small step back and looked on his moonlit face. "Are you serious?"

"Never have I been more serious. If we're married they can't stop us from seeing each other," he reasoned.

Only one word could possibly pass her lips. "Okay."

A bigger smile had never parted his lips. "I don't have a ring, but I'll get one—tomorrow."

But Medea pressed a finger to his lips. "I don't need a ring to know I'm yours. Just as long as I am I'm happy."

He held her face and kissed her with all the feeling that he'd been building up since he'd last seen her. Granted, he'd just seen her earlier than day, but it had been the longest time they'd been parted since the beginning of their relationship. "Can we go tonight?"

Medea's chocolate eyes widened at his anticipation. "No, we have to get stuff in order first. And it's late."

"How about next week?" he asked desperately.

As she looked up at him she realized that it would be hard for her to wait that long. "Yes."

And then he said the words that Medea had been longing to hear all year…and he'd been longing to say. "I love you."

She kissed him furiously and for once her tears were purely from happiness. "I love you too."

It was a quarter past two when Medea slid back into her family home. Much to her surprise though, she wasn't alone.

"Hello, Medea."

Medea closed her eyes in despair and slowly turned around. "Hi, Dad."

"Were you with Patrick Potter?" he asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

"You knew?" Medea asked incredulously. "Why didn't you try to stop me?"

Draco gave her a fatherly smile and closed the space between them. "Trust me, Medea; I have no right to stop you if he's what you truly want."

"He is."

"Then I'm happy for you."

She threw her arms around his neck. "Thanks, Dad, I love you."

"I love you too."

When she pulled away, though, she had one last concern. "You're not going to tell Mum, are you?"

Draco hesitated before he shook his head. "As much as I hate keeping things from your mother, I think you should tell her when you're ready. It shouldn't come from me." He turned to go up the staircase.

"Dad," she stopped him. "Are you angry? I mean, Patrick knows his parents would never stand for it. How do you feel?"

"Me? I just want you to be happy. But I'll warn you that your mother probably won't feel the same." He kissed her cheek and headed up the stairs.

She sighed and headed to the stairs herself. "I was afraid of that."


	9. Our Future's Tied

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Our Future's Tied**

Medea paced in her spacious room and waited for the promised tap on her window. Doubts had been plaguing her mind all week, but she always came to the same conclusion. She loved Patrick and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him no matter how anyone else felt about it. Her only regret was that she couldn't share it with her parents. Even though her father had said he cared only about her happiness, she knew that he probably wouldn't look so lightly upon this.

When the awaited sound finally came, Medea threw her cloak around her shoulders, picked up her small parcel, and mounted her broom to fly down to the grounds. She'd put a very powerful lock charm on her door so her brother Jarret wouldn't come in and announce her absence. Not that anyone would be able to find her in time.

Pointing her wand at the window to close it as she hovered, Medea descended to the ground below her window and directly into the arms of her fiancé. "Hello," she whispered when he relinquished her mouth. "Is everything arranged?"

"Of course," he breathed excitedly. "Are _you_ ready?"

Medea took his face in her hands and looked him directly in his green eyes. "I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life."

"Then let's go."

When they arrived at the establishment, Medea went straight to the facilities and changed into the simple, white dress she'd had made for her during the week. It mirrored the dress she'd seen her mother wear in the photos of her wedding.

What she hadn't thought about was how much it would remind her of the fact that her parents weren't there for her. She felt like she was betraying their love and everything they'd taught her. She looked at her reflection and only then did she see the tears in her eyes.

She emerged from the small room, wiping her tears with a small sniff. Patrick was by her side in an instant. "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "Are you having second thoughts?"

She shook her head. "No," she assured him pitifully. "I'm just—I wish my parents were here."

Patrick noticeably struggled with his next words. "Well, I guess we could wait—"

"No!" Medea quickly said. "I want to do this; I just regret that we can't share it."

The official stepped into the small foyer. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Um, we just need a minute, thank you."

The man nodded and went back into the inner chamber.

"Medea," Patrick whispered softly. "This should be the happiest day of our lives. Are you always going to regret not having them here? Because if you will we should wait until they know and cool down."

"They may never cool down, and I can't wait that long. I want to marry you, and I want to do it right now. They are the ones who are going to regret it." She inhaled deeply and smiled at him. "Are you coming?"

Patrick tightened his hold on his young wife as they rested together in his father's lakeside cabin. They were finally together, bare skin on skin, and it had been well worth the wait. He kissed the top of her head where it lay on his chest. "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you, too." She kissed his chest and neck up to his lips. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Why can't we?" Patrick asked. "We could leave England and live—anywhere at all."

She could see the fervor in his green eyes, but she could also see a gapping flaw in his whimsical plan. "And how would we support ourselves? We don't have jobs, or even a trade. We're broke on our own," she reminded him with a heavy heart.

Medea could feel his soul droop in realization. "You're right," he said. "But we have to do something."

"I know, we can't live like this," she agreed.

Every time they left each other's presence they died a little inside and they were revived only when they were back together. And they're marriage wasn't helping that either. Now they had a right to be together, both by wizard law and British law. Something had to be done.

"Maybe we should just tell them," he suggested quietly and without conviction. "We're married now, they can't keep us apart."

"But that doesn't mean they won't try." Medea jumped with a sudden idea. "Maybe if we break it to them gently they'll take it better."

"What are you thinking?" Patrick asked quickly, ready for any plan that would get them together quicker.

"Well, in a while we'll tell them that we're dating and let them get used to it. Then we'll tell them that we are engaged and we'll have another wedding for them."

"What do we do until then? Sneak out every night? Can't we just tell them we're married and get it over with?" He couldn't stand a single night without her.

"No," She shook her head. "Because that could completely close them out of our lives. I love you, but I also love my family. And so do you. If they never want to see us again, we'll secretly resent each other the rest of our lives," she reasoned.

Patrick encircled her waist and kissed her neck. "I could never resent you," he whispered, tickling her neck with his breath.

"I know you feel that way now, but what about when we're thirty?" Then she suddenly thought of her parents. They'd at least had Aunt Zofia and the store. She and Patrick had nothing except each other. That just wasn't enough.

"I still don't think I'd ever resent you, but I see your point. I guess then in a few weeks we'll tell our parents we're dating."

Medea bit her lip. "Er, to be quite honest, my dad already knows."

Patrick's eyes widened to three times their normal size. "What? He knows?"

"Yes, he found your note last week. But he's fine with it. Well, with us dating anyway, I don't know how he'll feel about this." She ran her hand over Patrick's stubbled cheek. "He just wants me to be happy, and you make me happy," she whispered.

Patrick kissed his bride, sweet, slow, and long. "I just hope my dad feels the same way."

Medea nestled up to his warm chest and sighed in the brief contentment. "Unfortunately there's only one way to find out."


	10. The Truth or Something Like It

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

The Truth…Or Something Like It

Medea crept flew through her window with a yawn a week later. She'd been sneaking out all week and the bags under her eyes were proof. It was four in the morning now and she was beyond exhausted. It didn't help that she and Patrick had determined that they were going to begin their plan and tell their parents they were dating today.

She wasn't looking forward to it.

* * * *

"Dea!"

Medea's eyes flew open. "What Jarret?" She surveyed her room with sleep soaked eyes and found him hovering just off the floor on her broom. "Jarret, get down! You're not supposed to fly until you go to school!"

The seven-year-old stuck out his tongue. "Daddy let me fly while you were at school. And he told me you flew before school, too!"

She slipped out of her bed and grabbed her broom so her brother slid off the end. "You can fly when you have your own broom."

"But—"

"No buts! Get your own."

He crossed his pale little arms and marched out of the room, passing his mother as she walked in. "Good morning, love," she greeted with the usual morning smile. Medea had definitely gotten her night owl genes from her father.

"Morning," she mumbled back.

"I told your father to wait at least until he was ten, but you know how he feels about flying."

"I know," Medea agreed. Then she realized that now was the best time to tell her mum about Patrick. Medea never questioned why, but she was always in the best mood in the morning. "Er, mum, could I talk to you about something?"

Hermione smiled even wider. "Of course, what is it?"

"Well, I've actually wanted talk about this for sometime, but I wasn't sure how." She decided just to come out with it…sort of. "I've been dating someone."

Much to her relief, her mother smiled. "Who?"

The moment of truth. "His name is Patrick,"

This Hermione didn't take so well. She swallowed hard. "Patrick…P-Potter?" she stuttered.

"Yes, and before you start telling me how wrong he is for me just know that I have never felt happier in my life. We've been together all year and I…" her words trailed. Her mother was no longer listening, or even looking at her. She was staring strait ahead with a glazed, hallow look.

Medea ran out into the hall. "Dad!" she implored urgently.

Draco poked his out of his bedroom door down the carpeted corridor. "What?"

"Please come here!"

He jogged down the hall in concern. "What is it?" He looked in her room and got the answer. His wife was sitting on the edge of the bed staring straight at the wall with a look he hadn't seen in quite some time. "You told her about Patrick, didn't you?"

"Yes," she answered nervously. "Why does she look like that?"

"Utter shock. Don't worry about it," he advised. He kneeled down in front of his wife and caressed her face. "Hermione," he whispered lovingly. "Hermione."

She finally looked down at him. "Our daughter…Patrick Potter?"

Medea joined her father on the floor. "I'm sorry, mum, but I love him."

This time both parents stared at her in amazement.

* * * *

Her mother eventually got over her shock, but she didn't talk to Medea the rest of the day. Draco stayed out of it, he, unlike his daughter, knew why Hermione had reacted that way. But he was glad that she had told her mother.

And deep down, so was Hermione. She wasn't thrilled that Medea and Patrick were together, but that was mostly because she didn't want Medea to get hurt. And she knew that the Potters wouldn't take the news half as well as they had.

Medea didn't quite realize how serious that situation was. That night she left the house at eight and apparated to London like she'd discussed with her husband. They were just going out for dinner then she was coming home. After sneaking out and meeting him every night for over a week…and never sleeping, she was exhausted.

She walked through Diagon Alley at a slow pace and thought back on her day. Much to her relief, her mum had been a great deal more surprised than angry. Of course, both of her parents had been shocked when she had said she loved Patrick, but it was only the truth.

Patrick sat in one of Diagon Alley's outdoor cafés and waited for her. He smiled when she walked up and Medea immediately knew something wasn't right. "You didn't tell your parents, did you?" she asked even before he kissed her.

He frowned and looked away in guilt.

"I knew it, Patrick you have to tell them! I told my mum."

"How did she take it?" he asked soberly as they sat down.

"She stared at the wall for nearly three minutes, but she was mostly shocked. She doesn't have anything against you. My parents are mostly concerned that I'll get hurt."

Patrick took her hands in his and looked at her seriously. "I am never going to hurt you," he stressed.

"I know," Medea assured him, caressing his freshly shaven cheek with a soft smile. "And when they see us together, they will too. I promise. But you need to tell your family."

He ran a hand through the dark auburn mess on his head. "Trust me, I know! What I don't know is how to tell them."

"Well, what did you tell them when you came here?"

"Job hunting," he said.

"You're starting Auror training, aren't you?" she asked in confusion.

"Yes, I said I wanted to earn a little extra money before I start, just to get a little independence. Which is actually true."

Medea smiled at him with a teasing glint. "We're both going to need jobs out of the country unless you tell your parents about us."

Patrick frowned again. "I know, I was going to, so I mentioned your name in conversation, just to feel them out and Uncle Ron spat your name and mumbled a few curse words. I guess I lost my nerve after that."

"Patrick," she breathed. "I am going mad! We are married; we should be living in a house that's ours, and sleeping in our own bed every night." She leaned in closer to him. "We should be making love all day like newly weds are supposed to do."

"Believe me, I want that too, and we'll have it in time, I promise. But right now let's have a nice dinner together, okay?"

"No," Medea said, standing up and pulling him to his feet.

"No? What do you mean no?"

She turned and pressed against him quickly. "Apparate to my house," she whispered directly in his ear, then she disappeared.

"Wha—" he began but she was gone. He had no choice but to follow. "Medea, why are we here?" he asked when he joined her.

"Do you realize that we've been married for over a week and you've never even been in my house?"

"I had realized that. What about your parents?" This was normally their biggest problem.

"Don't worry, there are old servant's corridors from when the house was first built and—"

"Medea," Patrick said with a teasing glint in his green eyes. "We've been through this. This isn't a house, it's a country."

Medea laughed. "Fine, but that's not the point. One of the corridors leads directly to my room; because Malfoy woman used to all have personal maids. So we can take that from the side of the Manor and no one will see us."

Patrick encircled her waist and pulled her to him. "And why are we doing this?"

"Because my room is my world; I want you to be a part of my world," she explained.

"Would this involve you and me in a bed?"

Medea bit her bottom lip. She was still getting used to being so open about her carnal appetite. "Yes, that had crossed my mind."

"And if someone comes in?" he challenged.

"I think between the two of us we can cook up some potent locking and sound proofing charms, just in case." She took his hand and pulled him out of the trees. "Now come on!"

He wagged his eyebrows. "Don't have to tell me twice!"


	11. The Potters

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius**.**

**The Potters**

Medea crept back down the old staircase with her husband four hours later. This was always the hardest part…saying good-bye.

Patrick kissed her and held onto her as long as he could.

"Patrick, you've been job hunting for long time, you know," she teased, trying to lighten the heavy mood that always fell around their parting.

"Yeah, but eventually I found the perfect position." He wagged his dark eyebrows.

Medea laughed at his innuendo and rested her head on his chest. "Your family is probably getting suspicious. Most things are closed now."

He just shrugged. "So I went flat hunting as well." He chuckled at his own joke. "Here's a thought: if your parents are okay with us, couldn't we stay here? Until we have money for a house of our own?"

"I'm sure my parents would let us stay here," she agreed. "If they knew we were married."

"Medea, if we give our parents time to get used to us and then we can we have a real wedding with all of our friends and family," he said whimsically.

"Patrick, our friends are our family, and the rest of our family hates each other for some reason. Do we really need a big wedding?" In all honesty, Medea was quite satisfied with the small, private ceremony they'd had.

"No, we don't need it, per se, but don't you want to share it with everyone?"

Medea sighed and snuggled up to him in the cool night air. "I guess, but you should go before I kidnap you."

"Fine." With a last lingering kiss he disappeared.

Medea didn't immediately go back inside her house. She Apparated to the lake on the Malfoy estate and looked out over the water as it was illuminated by the moonlight. When she thought about the predicament she was in with Patrick, she couldn't help but laugh. Her entire life she had followed every rule to a tee. Now she was lying to her parents about marrying her boyfriend, who was the son of one of the biggest celebrities in the Wizarding World, and apparently the sworn enemy of the Malfoys. No one would have ever expected it. Even though it was mildly thrilling, it was wearing her out.

When Medea walked through the front door after she'd walked back to the house Hermione poked her head out of the library door before she could get up the stairs. "Were you with Patrick?" she asked accusingly.

Medea closed her eyes to keep from saying something harsh. "Yes, mum."

Hermione shook her head and passed Draco on her way back into the library. "Just wait until the Potters find out about this," she muttered as she walked away.

At this, Medea turned from the stairs and walked down the hallway. "What does that mean?" she demanded of her father.

"Medea, you know why your mother and I don't talk about the past. We're happier when past stays where it belongs—in the past."

Medea crossed her arms. "I realize that, but your past is affecting my future. I think I have a right to know."

"Come here," he said and pulled his daughter into a hug. "I'll tell you sometime, Okay? Right now you should go to bed and have sweet dreams about your boyfriend." He kissed her head and sent her on her way.

As far as Medea was concerned it was far from the end of it.

* * * *

Patrick nervously paced in his room. Medea was right, like she always was; he had to tell his parents and he had to do it tonight. Yet, the same question always haunted him: how?

He was brought out of his reverie by a knock on his door… followed by its immediate opening. "Oi, what're you doing?" Hyatt asked and fell onto Patrick's bed.

"I'm…thinking," he said evasively. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "Mum and Dad are here for dinner, so I thought I'd tag along. You know, give you some support."

Patrick turned and eyed him suspiciously with his green eyes. "Support for what?"

"Come on, Potter, you don't honestly believe that you're the only one that you-know-who writes to, do you?"

"Well…" He had thought so, but apparently not.

"The girl loves to write, man. She told me that you had to tell your parents tonight or you'd regret it," he said.

"What?" Patrick practically yelled. "She didn't!"

Hyatt's dark face scrunched up in thought. "You're right. She said if I didn't get you to tell them then I'd regret it. That's what it was."

Patrick sat down next to his cousin and closest friend. "I want to tell them, but I just don't know how."

Hyatt sighed and looked serious for the first time. "Look at it this way, Rick. It doesn't matter how you tell them. They're going to react how they're going to react. That's why my parents and I are here. Medea is my friend too, and my parents love her."

Patrick saw the first glimmer of hope. "Your parents know Medea?"

"Yeah, her mum runs the book shoppe in Hogsmeade, and my dad's best friend Jordan sells his comic books there. See my dad is Jordan's silent partner, I guess, so he goes to the store a lot and that's how he met Medea. He's always spoken nicely of her and, don't get mad, but I told him what was going on and he supports you like we do. Alright?"

"Cheers," Patrick sighed. "I guess tonight's the night then."

"Hey," Hyatt said before Patrick got up. "You know I joke a lot man, but you're real lucky. She loves you and you love her and that's all that matters. Plus, whatever happens you have me and the girls. I know they feel the same way."

"Thanks, mate, that means a lot," Patrick said sincerely. "But let's just keep this between us."

"Right," Hyatt agreed. "So what's for dinner?"

"No idea, but I promise you drama."

* * * *

The boys sauntered down the stairs side by side after Ginny called them down. They sat next to each other across the table from Hyatt's parents, Fred and Angelina Weasley. Both adults smiled at their love-struck nephew and Patrick was inexpressibly glad to have their support. He almost believed that it would all work out.

"Are they here yet?" Harry asked his wife when he swept into the dinning room and kissed her cheek.

"No, it shouldn't be too long though. You know how Gabrielle is."

Patrick's heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He would invite anyone in the world to be here when he told his parents… anyone except his Uncle Ron. He slowly looked around at the others at the table, coming lastly to Hyatt. He'd never looked so concerned.

Not a second later the door bell sounded through the house and Harry jogged off the get the door.

"Maybe I should wait," Patrick whispered. "It'll be even worse with Uncle Ron here. Blast!"

"You can't wait, mate, you've got to do this. He's gonna find out anyway. Now we'll just tell them all."

"We?"

"'Course, with any luck Odile is with them."

As if on cue, Odile walked in ahead of her parents and quickly sat on Patrick's other side. "I'm so sorry; I tried everything to get them not to come. I even put a spell so they would forget and your dad reminded them," she spilled in one breath. "I still think you should do this, though."

Patrick looked around. "How does everyone know?" he asked with wide eyes.

Everyone else entered and the discussion ended. Patrick could barely breathe as everyone sat down at the table. He knew this was the time to do it. They were going to yell and ruin his evening, so he couldn't hold in the urge to ruin their dinner.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and stood up. "Before we all begin, I have an announcement to make. Er, this past year I've been seeing a girl from Hogwarts and it has become very serious. I want you all to know because I'm really happy."

"Okay," his mother laughed. "Well, who is she? When do we get to meet her?"

"You can meet her whenever you want." He inhaled again; this was it. "Her name is Medea—Malfoy."

A queer silence ensued while the news sank in and, as he had predicted, Ron was the first to speak. "What did you say?" he asked in a voice as eerie as the proceeding silence.

"It's Medea Malfoy," he repeated. "I'm dating her… I'm in love with her."

Apparently that wasn't the right thing to say. Three pairs of eyes stared at him and another looked around the party with almost scared eyes. "Who is Medea Malfoy?"

This wasn't the right thing to ask either. Of the entire party, Gabrielle was the only one not intimately acquainted with the Malfoy/Granger debacle that had caused Ron so much heartache and hatred. Considering that Gabrielle was his wife of many, many years, he obviously never had and still didn't talk about what had happened.

Then again, Patrick realized that he wasn't all too sure what had happened that day either. All he knew was that the Malfoy clan was the sworn enemy of the Weasley/Potter clan. More than anything Patrick wanted to tell them that they had nothing to worry about, she was Medea Potter now. Only, he knew better. No one had spoken, no one who knew the past anyway, so it could take years before he could actually tell them the whole truth.

The silence dragged on. Eventually Hyatt stood up, followed by Odile, and everyone understood what they were tacitly saying: they knew and they would stand by their cousin no matter what. A new fire lit in his Uncle's eyes and he stared, not at Patrick but at his daughter. This was hard for Odile, Patrick knew this. He wanted very much to hug her and thank her right then, but it had to wait. At least she, like Patrick, knew that she was not alone.


	12. Now What?

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Now what?**

The doorbell sounded late in the Malfoy household. Medea was halfway down the staircase from her room when Draco answered the door for three people whom she had a sudden urge to strangle.

A few words were exchanged and Draco's eyes narrowed slightly at something, but he allowed the downcast crew to enter the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Medea wasn't sure if he had known that she was standing there, but her father turned directly toward her and gave her an almost imperceptible smile. She hoped that meant that so far he approved.

Medea ran down the stairs and pushed her friends back out the door before they even realised that she had joined them. But Patrick didn't miss a beat. Once the door was firmly shut he pulled her against him and just held her for several minutes before he pulled slightly back and kissed her. After the evening he'd just had he really needed her love and support.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered once he relinquished her.

Odile was apparently the only one willing to speaking. "We didn't really know where else to go. We've had a bad evening…really bad."

Then she felt bad for wanting to strangle them. She didn't have to ask to know that he'd finally told his family about her, and if the looks on their faces were any indication, it hadn't gone well. "What happened?"

"It was going okay," Hyatt began, "I was there with my parents because they've actually met you and they like you and all so I thought it would be okay—"

"Except Patrick's parents also invited my parents to dinner," Odile cut in, "and that wasn't good."

"Of the lot, Uncle Ron is the one who hates your parents the most and he makes sure that no one forgets that they should too," Hyatt explained.

"I tried everything I could think of but they still went."

They all looked so defeated. Clearly they weren't telling her everything. "Well? What did they say?"

"That we should be ashamed."

"That we weren't true Weasleys."

"That I couldn't come home," Odile said last.

The other three stared at her. Apparently the boys hadn't known about this either. "What?" Patrick whispered with a painful expression.

Tears quickly filled her Odile's blue eyes. "Right before we left Dad stopped me and said that if I was going to support this kind of behavior then I should find somewhere else to stay."

"Oh, Dile," Medea whispered, using the pet name for the first time herself. "Do you have a place to go?"

She shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find something. Don't worry."

"There's always the summer home," Patrick said. "The three of us could stay there, just like old times. Let everyone cool off a bit. And Hyatt can come just to hang out."

At that, Medea turned to Hyatt. "How did your parents take it?"

Hyatt actually grinned. "They already knew, and since they like you and actually know you, they got yelled at a little bit too."

The group nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard the loud pop and Phaedra appeared five feet away. "Hi, just found out," she said as she joined them.

"What does your family think?" Patrick asked.

"Mum's none too happy about it. She said something about Malfoy's making dad look the way he does." She shrugged. "Dad doesn't seem to care though." Then she really looked around the group. "Merlin, you all look down. Was it really that bad?"

"Worse," Patrick said dryly.

Phaedra looked around at her cousins and suddenly felt very left out. "What happened?"

"Dile got kicked out," Hyatt said softly.

Her eyes widened. "Merlin…"

Odile sniffed. "It's okay, really, we're going to stay at the summer home." She forced a smile. "Want to come?"

"'Course," Phaedra agreed. She turned back to the rest of the group. "So, what do you think? Will they ever get over it?"

Then to everyone's surprise, Patrick cracked and tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheek just as fast. He crumpled to the ground. "I don't know. Damnit!"

Medea gave her friends a scared look and joined him on the ground. His arms immediately pulled her close, rocking back and forth with his sobs. She soon gave into tears of her own, feeling the same helplessness that she knew her secret husband was feeling.

Hyatt shifted uncomfortably after several minutes had passed. "Come on, mate, it's not as bad as all that. You've just told them. Give them some time."

Odile sniffed and crossed her arms. She knew her father and enough time was going to be a long time for him.

But Patrick seemed to calm down a little. He slightly relinquished his hold on Medea and looked up at his cousins. "You're right. I shouldn't be so desperate yet."

"Besides," Medea added with the smallest of smiles, "I found a promising job ad in the _Daily Prophet_."

"And you're going to start your Auror training soon. Could you get a job while you're training?" Phaedra suggested.

"I should think so."

"Then you could get married and move out on your own."

The couple shared a private glance and a smile. "That had crossed my mind," Patrick nearly chuckled.

Suddenly, the whole mood of the gathering lightened and grins began to break out amongst the cousins. "You're serious? Tell me you're serious," Hyatt demanded.

"Are you engaged, then?" Phaedra asked with a growing smile.

"Well—"

"You better be!" Odile said "Because otherwise—"

"We are!" Medea assured them with a bright smile. "We are."

"Then we should celebrate! Merlin, we should have party!" Phaedra practically squealed.

"Yeah," Hyatt agreed. "Listen, we'll give you lot a bit of—" He wagged his dark eye brows "private time and get something together at the cabin then you'll come on. Sound good?"

Patrick and Medea exchanged glances and chuckles. "Sure," Patrick laughed.

"Brilliant! Phaedra? Odile? Ready?" He didn't wait for them to reply, just disappeared.

Phaedra laughed and followed. But Odile remained behind.

"Medea," she said softly. "Could I have a word?" She glanced at Patrick. "Privately?"

"'Course, yeah, go ahead," Patrick mumbled and disappeared with a pop.

"Dile, what is it?"

Then she began to cry again. "I just—I wanted to you know that even though I was reluctant to be your friend, I count you as one of my best. I'm doing this just as much for you as I am for Patrick."

Medea pulled her friend into a warm hug. "Thank you, Odile, it means the world to me."

She smiled one last time, her eyes still shining with tears. "I'll go now. See you in a bit." She disappeared.

Not five seconds later, Patrick reappeared. Somehow she knew he hadn't been too far away. "Do you think we could tell them everything?" he asked as soon as he was beside her.

"Yes, but not tonight. Let them throw their engagement party and we'll tell them later. When should we tell our parents that we're engaged?"

He shrugged and pulled her to him. "Good question, I don't know if they'll ever get over this. I should probably just tell them."

"Not now, though. I want you to meet my parents, just as my boyfriend now. I want them to see that you won't hurt me, and that you love me and that that's all that matters. Will you?" she asked with a soft, pleading smile. "I think their fears would be put to rest if they could meet you, and not just at the door."

He looked skeptical and, considering what he'd just been through, he had good reason to be. Still, she knew why her parents were nervous and it wasn't only because he was a Potter. They feared that since he was he would be persuaded to hurt their daughter.

Blessedly, he smiled. "Okay."


	13. Meet the Malfoys

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Meet the Malfoys **

Medea held Patrick's hand as she pulled him into her family home. She knew she parents would be in the library, not only because that's where they spent the most time, but because that's where they could have eavesdropped if she would have stayed inside the house. So she pulled her reluctant guest along, flashing him an encouraging smile.

Draco and Hermione were curled up together on the sofa across from the fireplace, looking very much the innocent, loving couple. Hermione was holding the day's Dailey Prophet and they were both pretending to read it, but Medea knew better. That's why she had pushed her friends outside. Her mother read at least four times faster than her father; they were in there to listen.

"Dad, Mum, I want you to meet someone." She took a deep breath before she said, "This is Patrick," purposely omitting his last name.

Patrick could feel Medea's hand trembling in his. He was surprised that he was still standing on his jelly legs. Draco and Hermione got off of the sofa and walked toward them, smiling, they both shook his hand warmly.

"Sit down, would you?" Draco offered.

Medea smiled up at him and pulled him to the adjacent sofa.

"There's really no good, polite way to ask this," Hermione began. "So I'll just ask. Do your parents know?"

Patrick looked down before he answered, the look on his face speaking already telling them how it went. "They do. I told them this very evening."

"I can tell by the look on your face that it didn't go very well," Draco said.

"No, it didn't, to say the least. I actually don't know what my parents think because they just stared at me. Uncle Ron was furious though, and he kicked his daughter out because she knew and she supports us."

Hermione slowly let out her breath and leaned onto the back of the sofa. "All these years and he hasn't changed a bit."

"Mrs. Malfoy, Why does my family hate—" he couldn't go on.

"Why do your parents and your uncle hate me so much?" Hermione finished soberly. "I choose a different path than what they expected for me."

"And they hate you because of it?" Patrick asked. Somehow, he thought his family was more level headed than that.

Hermione smiled with nostalgic melancholy and Draco reached over and took her hand. "Well, in their defense it was a very different path, and I didn't exactly consult them."

"Were you very close with my parents?"

"I was. Your father and your uncle were my best mates when I was in school. We fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters together."

Both Patrick and Medea knew that much, they had read the accounts Hermione had written and heavily studied the war in their History of Magic classes. But that's where their knowledge of the feud ended and no one seemed to want to enlighten them. Something had happened after the war, after Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been best friends at school. They were dying to know what had happened.

"Mum, why do they hate you now? What could have possibly been so bad that they still say they hate you so many years later?"

Hermione hadn't cried in a long time, but when she thought about that day at Hogwarts she couldn't help it. Tears welled up in her brown eyes and spilled onto her cheeks in seconds. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Draco wrapped her in his arms. "Shh," he soothed as he rocked her back and forth.

Medea jumped up and went to sit at her mother's feet. "I'm sorry, mum."

"She was right, Draco," Hermione whispered into her husband's chest. "Our past is affecting her future. They should know."

"Alright, love. Do you want me to tell them?" he asked gently.

She nodded. "Please."

Medea shared a look with her father then went back to the sofa to sit next to Patrick.

Draco paused for courage before he began his tale. "My family is not good and it's huge, Medea. I know you don't know that. When I was in school I was in Slytherin and I was very horrible to Hermione and Harry and Ron. My parents are still alive and they're in Azkaban until they die because they are Death Eaters. And when I was sixteen, I became one myself."

Medea whimpered and Patrick pulled her close to him. Even though she had known that, hearing her father actually say it hurt her more than she thought it would.

"As a Pure-blooded Wizard, a member of Slytherin house, and a Death Eater, I was the sworn enemy of Harry who had defeated Voldemort, Ron who was a blood traitor, and Hermione who was Muggle-born. I never passed up on an opportunity to make them feel like dirt under my feet. You can't imagine how horrible I was."

Medea was crying now. She was very close to her father; she respected him with every fiber of her being. Hearing him talk about how malicious he had been made her want to curl up in a ball and sob. Patrick pulled her closer.

"My sixth year, after I became a Death Eater, Voldemort gave me a task to punish my parents for humiliating him. I had to kill the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, or he would kill me and my parents." Draco's own gray eyes began to tear up at the memories. "I was so scared because I knew I couldn't do it but I knew I had no choice. But then something happened to me that was completely unexpected and wonderful." He looked down at his wife and smiled through his tears. "I fell in love with the last person in the world that I thought I could, and it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me."

Hermione sniffed and sat up, still snuggled up to her husband, and continued the story. "What he neglected to tell you is that he was convinced that I had used witchcraft to get him to fall in love with me. When he kept cornering me I thought he was trying to kill me, so we got off to a very rough start. We began meeting secretly and it wasn't very long before I realized that I loved him."

"So this animosity is because you fell in love with the enemy?" Patrick asked.

"Not really." Hermione looked down and debated how much she should tell them. "We didn't tell anyone. Draco would have been killed by his…people, and I knew that Harry and Ron would either demand that I stop or try to get me to spy on him. And I knew they would never understand. As it went on Draco and I became very intimate and I eventually discovered the Dark Mark on his arm. I knew that it was my duty to turn him in, and I almost did, but I just couldn't do it." She looked up at her husband with nothing but love and tears in her eyes. "I couldn't put him in Azkaban."

Draco kissed her sweetly and continued for her. "Unfortunately, I eventually found a way to get the Death Eaters into the school so I could follow through with my task. And the opportunity fell into my lap. But just like your mother couldn't turn me in, I couldn't kill the Headmaster, even though he was standing in front of me completely defenseless. But Professor Snape did—"

"And that's why your father is still angry with me," Hermione cut in. "Because if I would have turned in Draco then Snape probably wouldn't have had opportunity to kill the Headmaster."

Patrick narrowed his green eyes, so much like his father's. "You said my father like my uncle has a different reason."

"You're very perceptive, Patrick. Your uncle does have another reason. After the Headmaster's death, I refused to speak to Draco again, and I started dating Ron. He told me he loved me a week after we started seeing each other and I told him I loved him. In my defense, I did love him, just not like he thought he loved me. He still didn't know about Draco and I and we were never intimate because I would have had some explaining to do. He just thought it was because I was too modest."

"At our graduation though, I blew it," Draco said. "I begged her to admit that she still loved me and that she was using Ron to hurt me. Not the best way to try and win her back really. But I had fought with them against Voldemort and I thought that maybe that would make her see that I had changed. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron found out that she had known I was a Death Eater and that she could have stopped the Headmaster's death, so they thought, and they vowed to never forgive her, and she vowed to never forgive me."

"It was penance, in a way," Hermione said, staring into the fire. "I felt so guilty about Dumbledore, so even though Harry and Ron wouldn't forgive me, I still didn't go back to Draco for many years. But he forced his way back into my life and I still loved him, so I couldn't keep him away. Some people, like your family, still harbor anger against us, but we're happy."

"Wow," the young couple whispered in unison. Medea's love for her parents grew ten fold as she stared at them. Compared to what they'd been through, her situation with Patrick seemed very simple.

"So their reasons are completely obsolete?" Patrick asked.

"They are to us," Hermione told him. "The Headmaster knew what Draco was meant to do and that he was a Death Eater, so nothing I knew was new information for him. And Ron married Gabrielle before we got married."

"I'm sure you know that Uncle Ron isn't quick to forgive. He'll be angry with me for a long time too," Patrick whispered.

"I don't know if any of this will help you with your family," Hermione said, shedding a few remaining tears. "But now you know."

Medea watched as Draco softly whispered into Hermione's ear and kissed her temple. She wanted that with Patrick. She wanted a relationship that was so strong that they could be happy and in love no matter what anyone else thought. She looked at Patrick and for the first time since she'd learned to control her gift, she read his thoughts.

"We're engaged," she said softly. She wanted to be completely honest, but she knew that Patrick wasn't quite on the same page. He did, however, want to tell them that things were more serious than they let on.

Her parent's stared for a few moments, taking time to comprehend what she'd just told them. "This is what you want? No matter what?"

A small smile came to her lips. "It is, more than anything."

"Then we're happy for you," her mother said with a smile that still had a twinge of sadness.

"You don't look very happy."

Draco laughed and a smile cut his lips. "If we're wistful it's only because you've grown so fast."

Medea hopped off the couch and ran to hug her parents.

As Patrick watched the scene, the first stirrings of resentment toward his family began. He loved Medea and if they loved him then they had to love Medea too…or go without him.


	14. The Calm Before the Storm

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**The Calm Before the Storm**

Patrick was abnormally quiet as the couple left the Malfoy Manor. Being with Medea right after his disastrous dinner was like a salve to the wounds his family had given him. Yet, after hearing what her parents had to tell them, his wounds were opened to fresh pain and doubts.

The Malfoys had been living as social outcasts for over twenty years. He knew that society wouldn't reject Medea and him like the Malfoys, but his family could. Would they really disown him for the rest of their lives?

"You look so sad," Medea whispered when the door closed behind them. She didn't look so happy herself. Seeing her husband look so grim broke her heart. "I wish there was something I could do. I can't help but feel it's my—"

"Medea," he cut off before she could finish. "Don't even think it." He took her face in his hands and gently kissed the tip of her nose. "I have you and that would make me happy for ten lifetimes."

She smiled reluctantly, sadness still evident her gooey brown eyes. "But you love your—"

This time he cut her off with a kiss and wrapped his arms around her. "Look at your parents, Medea," he whispered into her hair. "For years they only had each other. Do you think that for one moment that wasn't enough for them?"

"I know they were happy," she conceded. "But they did have Aunt Zofia," she added lightheartedly.

"And we have Hyatt, Odile, and Phaedra, your parents, Hyatt's parents and all of our friends at school. As a matter of fact, most of the aforementioned persons are throwing a party for us and we aren't there."

Medea finally smiled up at him. "I know." Her smile turned wicked. She stepped away from him and disappeared with _pop! _

Before they joined their cousins in the cabin, Patrick pulled her to the side of the house that was in shadow and kissed her in a way he only did when they were alone. "I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"I love you too," she repeated, "and nothing will ever change _that_. But we should go inside now before they think we ran away to Scotland." She took his hand and pulled him along behind her.

"Not a bad idea actually."

The door whipped open before they got up the steps of the front porch. "What took you so long?" Odile asked, and not without accusation. "We're witches; it takes us five minutes to make a party for six people."

The couple cocked their eyebrows in unison. "Six people, 'Dile?" Patrick questioned.

She bit her bottom lip coyly, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. "I brought a guest of my own," she whispered and stepped aside.

There, looking very out of place, and admittedly scared, was Glenn McFaley. "Hi, Medea," he greeted timidly. "Congratulations?"

Medea ran up to him and gave him warm hug. "Oh, I'm so happy you're here!"

He smiled nervously and for good reason; he was surrounded by people who had teased him endlessly in school. "Well, Odile told me they were throwing you two an engagement party and that you wanted me to come."

She smiled at him. He was a little dense when it came to women. "That's not why she invited you, Glenn," she whispered so Odile wouldn't hear.

"What do you mean? Why else would she invite me?" he asked quickly, his green eyes narrowed in confusion.

Her smile widened. "Someday you'll figure it out."

Odile was immediately next to them, taking Glenn's arm and pulling him over to the table. "Some of us haven't eaten yet, so if everyone could sit down, we'll eat!"

Patrick's arm snaked around Medea's waist and directed her to the table as well. "That would have never happened if it weren't for you," he whispered directly into her ear.

She smiled up at him as he pulled out her chair. "I'm glad," she whispered. "She's liked him so long; it's time she stopped teasing him and actually did something about it."

Before anyone touched the food, Hyatt stood and held up his goblet of butterbeer. They all groaned. "I know, I know," he laughed. "But I've got something to say."

"Let's have it then," Medea said with a smile.

"I want to make a toast to you," he began, looking at the smiling couple. "I take great pride in knowing that I saw this one coming and I'm thrilled that I was right. I've never seen either of you so happy and I hope that you continue to grow in happiness." He lifted his goblet. "To Patrick and Medea!"

"To Patrick and Medea!" everyone repeated in unison.

"Cheers," Patrick whispered with an uncharacteristic blush. "And thank you for this, too."

"I was thinking," Phaedra said after they had all been eating in near silence for some minutes. "We ought to have proper party with our families to announce your engagement."

Odile's fork clattered onto her plate and five pairs of eyes slowly stared over at Phaedra. Surely she was joking.

"I know," she continued quickly. "It sounds like the last thing we should do, but maybe if we get everyone in the same room again…" She shrugged.

"I see where you're going with that, but you didn't see their faces, Phaedra," Odile whispered. "Especially my father's. I doubt he would even get near a party that involved the Malfoys."

"That's the thing, we won't tell them. We'll just have a party and not tell them the occasion. I know it won't be pretty, but maybe it would help. They haven't seen each other or talked to each other in too many years."

"My parents know," Medea revealed quietly. "We told them before we came here, so I would be honest with them about a party as well. It would be up to them really because I know it would be very painful for them. But we'll think about it," she promised with a smile.

"I can't ask for more than that. Sorry to ruin the mood," she apologized lightheartedly.

Hyatt shrugged. "No worries, Glenn here hasn't even got a clue what we're talking about."

A deep red blush crept up Glenn's cheeks and he quickly looked down to his plate and took another bite. Odile looked at him with obvious and, for once, unabashed affection.

They easily fell back into the happy, carefree conversation and banter that was their norm. In fact, even after they were all finished eating they continued to sit and laugh.

Medea, who was sitting directly across from Odile, was silently trying to get her to talk to Glenn…privately. Once she had gotten Odile's attention she looked at Glenn then looked to the French doors that led to the deck. But Odile just looked at her in confusion.

It had been a very long time since she had used her power and listened to another's thoughts, but she made an exception. She crossed her arms and subtly tapped her temple, trying to tell Odile she could hear her thoughts.

_Can you hear me?_ Odile thought.

Medea gave her the tiniest nod.

_What are you trying to tell me?_

She repeated her eyes movements with wide eyes.

_Take Glenn out on the deck?_

Another subtle, but more emphatic nod.

Odile's blue eyes narrowed in confusion. _Why?_

One of Medea's pale eyebrows slowly raised in disbelief until Odile's face registered understanding.

_Oh! I get it. Now get out of my head_, she added with a smile.

Medea gladly acquiesced.

"Glenn," Odile whispered, almost nervously. "Would you come outside with me?"

He looked around the table, wondering if he had done or said something wrong. "Er, certainly."

Ignoring the teasing grins from her family, Odile stood and led the way through the French doors. She stuck her pink tongue out at everyone when she had her back turned to close the doors.

"Have I done something wrong?" he asked as soon as the doors were closed. "Have I offended you?"

"No," she said softly and walked to the rail, looking out over the lake. "Of course not."

He moved next to her. "Then why are we out here?"

She looked up at him softly. He was a good twenty centimeters taller than her and a little on the skinny side. His sandy blonde hair had a subtle side part and it moved in the breeze over his luminescent green eyes as they looked down at her.

She took a shaky breath and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "I'm not very good at this," she admitted in an honest whisper. "Ironic, considering I'm part Veela."

The Veela part tipped him off; that and Medea's curious, knowing smile when she had said that Odile had invited him for a different reason. She was nervous, too, and few things ever made Odile Weasley nervous. But he would bet that she had never had to work at relationships. She was beautiful, extremely beautiful and other boys had simply fallen at her feet in school.

Even though he finally understood what she was trying to say, he was still just as nervous as she looked. He wasn't very good at this either.

"I've been horrible to you, Glenn, for no good reason other than that I wasn't used to liking someone who didn't like me back."

In one of the bravest moves of his life, Glenn reached out and touched her cheek. "You never gave me chance," he whispered.

The feel of his hand on her skin gave her the courage she needed. She grabbed a handful of his shirt and gently pulled his face down until it was no more than a centimeter from hers. "Here's your chance," she whispered and pressed her lips to his.

When they parted, almost a minute later, Odile laughed. "It's ridiculous how long I've wanted to do that."

His eyes widened. "How long?"

She looked down, suddenly shy again. "Since second year," she whispered.

He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her face up to look at him. "You're a Gryffindor; you're supposed to be brave," he teased.

"And you're supposed to be smart,"

He chuckled, "Only with magic."

Odile pushed her arms around his middle and rested her head on his chest. "This is magic," she breathed as his arms encircled her.

He couldn't have agreed more.

"Do you know that's the first time_ I've_ actually kissed someone?" she said in happy realization.

"I find that hard to believe."

Her smile widened as she felt the vibrations from his voice against her cheek. "Don't misunderstand me, boys have kissed me a lot…more than I would like to admit to you, but that was the first time I initiated it."

His smile matched hers; he understood what she was trying to say. This was different than the relationships she'd had in school. "Does this mean you're my girlfriend?"

She could have sworn that at that moment she was happier than she ever had been in her entire life. She had dreamed about this for nearly six years but she'd been too stupid and immature to do something about it. Now it was finally happening. "Only if you'll have me," she whispered.

Glenn suddenly pulled her away, just far enough so he could hold her face and look her in the eyes. "You have changed so much," he whispered sincerely. "Do you know that?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. When her eyes opened they were bright with tears. "You didn't like me, did you?"

"Odile—"

"No, it's okay," she assured him, looking down. "I barely liked me most of the time."

"Odile, look at me," he said firmly. "You're right; I didn't for a long time. But this past year I've watched you change into the wonderful woman you are now and that woman has been driving me to distraction."

Her smile returned and her heart swelled with happiness. "Does that mean you'll have me then?"

He pulled her back into his chest and rested his chin on her silky hair. "I have you now and I don't intend to let go."

Inside the house, four pairs of eyes were glued to the solid glass French doors.

"Looks like it's going well," Phaedra laughed. "Medea, what are they saying?"

"I'm not listening!" she exclaimed with wide eyes. "Honestly! It's bad enough we're watching!"

"We're just concerned for Odile's emotional welfare," Hyatt defended.

Patrick snorted. "You're diluted."

**A/N: I feel I must apologize for this extremely self-indulgent chapter, but I really wanted to expound upon the Odile/Glenn subplot (note chapter 3). Still, I hope you liked it, even if it was a bit fluffy. But rest assured, the storm is coming...**


	15. Party Planning

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. Many of these characters, however, are of my own creation.

**Party Planning**

"I've been thinking," Patrick whispered a week later as he sat with Medea in front of the fireplace in his father's summer house.

"About what?" she prompted when he didn't continue.

"About Phaedra's idea for a party. Maybe it's not such a bad idea."

Apparently Medea didn't quite feel the same way and her face showed it. "I still need to talk to my parents. I mean, you saw how they were when they were just talking about their past to us. Can you imagine how it will be if your family throws it in their faces?"

He nodded. He knew her parents were perfectly happy despite their past, but he also knew that the past still hurt them deeply. He remembered something Medea had told them when they had first started dating; she said that her parents didn't talk about the past because they were happier that way. He truly understood that now.

"I suppose we could ask them tomorrow at dinner," she whispered after several moments of silence.

"That's all I ask. I promise that if they say no, I won't mention it again."

She kissed his cheek then nestled into his chest. "Thank you."

* * * *

Medea wasn't quite sure how to bring it up. They were in the middle of dinner and Patrick kept giving her meaningful looks whenever he wasn't answering her parents' questions. She wanted to ask, she just didn't know how. It was times like these that she really wished her whole mind reading thing worked both ways.

When there was finally a lull in conversation, Medea took a deep breath and spoke. "Patrick's cousin had an interesting idea."

Her parent's looked at her in unison.

"An idea about what?" Draco prompted when she didn't go on.

"Er, about maybe having a party to announce our engagement to—"

The metallic clatter of a fork hitting the edge of the table then falling to the floor stopped her. Hermione quickly put her hands in her lap, trying to pretend that she hadn't dropped her fork at her daughter's words. Draco reached over and took her hand; they both knew what she was trying to say and they both knew what it would mean. And if his daughter's timid voice was any indication, she knew what she was asking of them.

"I'm sorry, love, go on," Hermione whispered.

Patrick looked down at his plate, instantly guilty that he had been so insistent about asking them.

"No, never mind," Medea said quickly. "I know what would happen."

"Well," Draco whispered after several moments of awkward silence, causing the other three to look at him curiously. "Maybe…"

Hermione nodded slowly, knowing exactly what her husband was thinking. "Maybe it is time. Merlin knows I haven't spoken to them in over twenty years. Perhaps if we get it out of the way we could at least be civil to each other."

"Are you sure?" Patrick asked, more than a little surprised.

Hermione sighed, resigned to her fate. "Yes, we've been ignoring it long enough. It's time."

* * * *

"My parents said they would be okay with a party," Medea told Phaedra and Odile over lunch in Diagon Alley the next day.

They both remained silent for several seconds. "They know what it will mean?" Odile finally asked soberly. "We shouldn't even call it a party. It will just be an argument."

"They know," she assured them. "They said it was time. Besides, they know how stressful this whole feud is for Patrick and me. If they can make it better, they will."

Phaedra nodded. Even though it had been her idea, she wasn't quite happy with the prospect of it. "We'll plan it then."

They went on with lunch, thought the carefree mood they usually enjoyed failed to return.

"So, Odile," Medea said in an effort to lighten the mood a little. "How is Glenn?"

A pink blush that matched her hair crept up her cheeks. "He's wonderful, but you knew that all along. I've never dated anyone like him," she said whimsically. "When he looks at me I know he is looking at me, not just a pretty face."

Phaedra rolled her eyes with a smile and took a sip of her butterbeer. "Does he have a brother?"

"Yes," Medea laughed. "He's in his second year at Hogwarts."

"Blast," she mumbled. "Well, it's okay. I'm happy to be on my own right now." Even as the words were coming out of her mouth, her eyes were following the path of a handsome young wizard who had been a year ahead of them in school.

"Phaedra! He was in Slytherin!" Odile reminded her.

"So? I thought we weren't supposed to hold grudges against people because of their house."

* * * *

Draco pressed a soft kiss to his wife's bare shoulder and tightened his hold around her middle. He loved times like this, when they were completely alone. Medea was _supposedly_ staying at a lake house with Odile and Phaedra Weasley and Jarett was spending the weekend with his Muggle grandparents. He loved his children dearly, but he cherished the times when he could be completely open and affectionate with his wife.

"How are you, love?" he asked softly against her skin. It was the middle of the afternoon, but when they were alone they didn't care what time of day it was.

She turned in his embrace and snuggled up to his warm, bare chest like she had done since they'd been married. "Perturbed."

He slowly raised a pale eyebrow, even though she couldn't see it. "Perturbed? About the_ party_?"

"No," she breathed.

Well, he was. "What then?"

"Do you think they're sleeping together?"

In all honesty, he hadn't really thought about it, what with all of the other issues his daughter's relationship presented. "I don't know. We did," he reminded her.

Her fingertips drew feather-light circles on his heated skin. "I know, but I'm not exactly proud of it. Besides, it was a different time; there was war on the horizon."

He chuckled. "I don't think it was the war, Hermione, I think it was love and hormones."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "So you're not worried?"

"No," he said honestly and pulled her even closer. "I trust Medea. Luckily, she's got your head on her shoulders. And, to be honest, I trust Patrick. Potter may be a prick, but I don't think he was a bad father."

* * * *

Medea tried to relax in Patrick's sleepy embrace, but her mind was going crazy. Something was wrong—no, not wrong…different. She had never felt quite like this before. And she didn't mean emotionally…the change was physical.

Patrick hummed in her ear and tightened his hold on her. "Still awake?" he mumbled.

"I am," she whispered.

"Are you well?"

Her lips formed a small smile he couldn't see before she whispered. "I don't know."

"Don't fret, love, you'll feel better in the morning," he whispered and planted a groggy kiss on her shoulder.

That was his reply to everything when he was tired and she only smiled and let him go back to sleep. She made up her mind to go to Diagon Alley in the morning because somehow she knew she wasn't going to feel better.

**A/N: I know, I know, not much happens...but let us not think of this as a filler chapter, but more of a lead-up chapter. Oh, and I just wanted to put in a fluffy little scene between Draco and Hermione because I love them.**


	16. The Storm

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. Many of these characters, however, are of my own creation.

*This is also a reminder that this disregards Deathly Hollows…along with the obvious. Long live Fred.

**The Storm**

The lake house was decorated with white crate paper and maroon and gold wedding related decorations. It looked cheery and happy; it spoke nothing of what was about to happen in the transformed space.

Medea was sitting between her parents on the swing on the back porch that looked over the lake. They hadn't spoken for at least ten minutes; they were all waiting for the front door to open and admit the Potters and the Weasleys. The whole lot of them was scheduled to arrive at six o'clock, even Arthur and Molly were coming…the _entire_ family was coming.

"Are you sure?" Medea whispered for the fifth time. As the time drew near, she began to doubt the wisdom of this plan, even though she knew it had to happen. It seemed a little backward, but she wanted to protect her parents from the harsh words and feelings she knew would be dispelled by Patrick's family. "We could leave right now and they would never know the difference."

Draco took her hand and squeezed it gently. "We're sure, love, it's the only way anything is going to change. I don't care how they feel about me, trust me, but I do care how they treat you and Hermione. I've earned their loathing, you haven't."

It made her a little sad to hear her father speak like that; it made her realize that he had been a very different person at some point in time. Her mother had sometimes said things, in teasing, that indicated just how horrible he'd been, but she had always assumed that it was just that…teasing. Part of her didn't want to know what he'd been like, but she somehow she knew today she was going to find out.

She sighed and sat back against the smooth wood. "Alright."

Another few minutes elapsed in silence.

"How do you think Aunt Zofia is faring with Jarrett?" she asked even though she wasn't really concerned.

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure she handling him just fine. She uses her, uh, gift so she knows when he's brewing up trouble. Unfortunately, he gets that honestly from both sides," she said, tongue in cheek.

Draco started to crack a guilty grin when the French doors opened and Patrick walked out with a strained smile. Even so, he looked like he was about to be sick. "They're all here," he whispered through a constricted throat.

Draco and Hermione stood in unison and reached out to each other. Medea watched as they stood hand in hand, presenting a united front. Patrick pulled her up from the swing and directly into his arms. "Come on, love," he whispered. "It'll be okay."

It was a lie and they both knew it, but they led her parents through the French doors anyway, both couples hand in hand.

The room slowly went silent; this was it.

"What in the bloody hell are they doing here?" It was Ron; he was clearly furious.

"Ronald?" Gabrielle asked in her heavily accented English, her beautiful face looking at her husband with confusion and concern.

They really were all there. Hermione looked around the room at the faces that had once been so dear to her; now they looked at her with surprised and disgust. They were all older, as would be expected after twenty years, but none of them looked old—just older. Although Arthur and Molly were quite grey and Bill's temples noticeably silver.

"Hermione…"

The whispered name drew her attention to the couple that really mattered in all of this. Harry and Ginny stood just inside the front door, staring at them. Harry looked as noble as ever, even with his wide eyes, and Ginny, whose lips were still parted from her whispered word, looked just as beautiful as she had the day she had officially become a Potter.

Hermione breathed a little easier when she realized that there wasn't even anger in her blue eyes.

The air tangibly crackled with tension, yet Fred and George simultaneously cracked duplicate grins and approached the two offending couples.

"I assume from the decorations that you two are planning to tie the knot!" Fred said with an affability that seemed foreign in the tense environment and slapped Patrick on the shoulder.

"That's the plan," Patrick whispered and tried to smile unsuccessfully.

Fred moved onto Hermione. "Always knew you'd be part of the family somehow," he told her quietly.

"How can you talk to them?" Ron shouted from across the room. "To _her_?"

Hermione watched the smile melt from his face and he slowly turned to face his family. "Because she's a friend," he whispered with feigned calm. "And I speak to my friends."

"_Friend_?" he nearly spat the word. "How can you can you call that trollop a—"

"Dad!" Odile gasped.

He turned on her with the same fire. "And you! Falling in with their spawn!"

"Ronald!" Gabrielle chastised from his side. "That's terrible! How can you—"

"Gabrielle!" Fleur said harshly from a few meters away, followed by a quick; "_Tais-toi_!"

She glared at her sister but remained silent.

"I'll not have you talk about Medea that way," Patrick said acidly to his uncle.

Hermione took a step forward. "I don't care how you feel about me," she lied. "But don't you dare say anything like that about my daughter again."

Medea looked around the room at the people that composed her new family. They were all edgy and staring her like she had two head that could eat them all simultaneously. "After two decades, this is really how you all act?" she asked as she looked around the room. "Just because she chose someone you didn't approve of?"

"She chose the bloody enemy!" Ron yelled. "A Death Eater who killed Professor Dumbledore!"

"Damn it, Weasley, I didn't have a choice!" Draco yelled. "And you know damn well that I didn't kill him!"

"As good as—"

"Ron," Harry said firmly. "You know he didn't."

Ron glared at his best friend. "I don't care, it doesn't change anything. She betrayed us, Harry!"

Medea's heart broke as she watched her mother's head droop guiltily. Her father's arms went around her protectively but neither of them said word.

"It was easy for you, wasn't it?" Medea asked even as tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. "You chose exactly who you were meant to chose. Everyone wanted it, wished for it even, but because my mother did something different from what you expected, she betrayed you?"

"No," Harry said. "She betrayed us because she did it behind our backs. She didn't have the decency to tell us—"

"What? That she'd fallen in love a Death Eater?" Draco retorted. "That would've gone over great! Even she thought I was trying to kill her!" Those words were still hard for him to speak, even though he knew it was the truth.

"I sort of knew," Ginny whispered with her head down.

Silence fell over the room.

"Mum? You knew?" Patrick finally asked incredulously.

Ginny looked up at her husband then over at her brother. "I knew they were getting along anyway and she was happy about it. Zofia told me Draco kissed her."

Ron's mouth fell open as he stared at his sister. "Ginny, how could you?"

"Oh, get over it, Ron! You're just mad he had her first!"

Gabrielle looked from her sister-in-law to her husband in wounded confusion. She clearly still had no idea what was going on.

Ron opened his mouth but he never got the chance to say whatever else was on his mind.

"Stop it!" Patrick yelled at his uncle. "This is ridiculous! I don't know why you're _still_ so angry, but frankly I don't care. Medea is part of this family now and I won't allow you to treat her or her family this way!"

The silence that fell over the room was no longer tense but stunned.

"What do you mean she _is_ part of the family?" Harry asked slowly.

Patrick suddenly couldn't speak. He hadn't meant to say that.

"We're already married," Medea whispered. She looked apologetically at her parents then her friends, hoping they would forgive them for their deception. "We got married a week after we got out of school."

The silence continued.

She figured she might as well be completely honest. After a deep breath, she revealed an even bigger secret that only she knew. "And we're going to have a baby."

Jaws literally dropped, including her husband's.

"It doesn't matter how you all feel about each other, you're all coming together as one." Tears filled her as she continued. "The Potters and the Malfoys and Weasleys and the even the Grangers together…as it should be."

Her softly spoken words hit harder than any previous shout or insult. After all the years of separation, they really were coming together as one.


	17. Forgiveness

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. Many of these characters, however, are of my own creation.

***To avoid confusion: All of these scenes are happening simultaneously***

**Forgiveness**

They left in the silence with seven consecutive _pops!_ And they all ended up at Malfoy Manor. Hyatt, Phaedra and Odile immediately looked at their cousin…cousins. "You're _married_?" they asked in perfect unison.

At the same time, Draco and Hermione looked at their daughter with wide eyes. "You're _pregnant_?"

"Yes," Patrick told his cousins.

"And yes," Medea told her parents quietly. "I found out yesterday."

Silence surrounded them for the space of several seconds before they all started talking at once. It was total chaos.

"Stop!" Patrick finally yelled and waited for them to calm down. "One question at a time, please."

Medea intertwined her fingers with her husband's and smiled. "Let's go inside and we'll explain everything."

"Yes, you will," Hermione said firmly with the smallest hint of a smile and followed her husband through their front door.

Medea moved to follow but Patrick pulled her back while the others filed in.

"We're really going to have a baby?" he asked softly, taking her face in his hands.

She smiled, covering his hand with hers and turning to kiss his palm. "Yes, we are."

Pure affection showed in his eyes as he pulled her into his arms. "I love you," he whispered. "You're so amazing."

"You helped," she laughed. "Come on, let's go inside. We have a lot of explaining to do."

The others had congregated in the library along with Zofia and Jarrett. The growing but still small boy had crawled into Draco's lap and was happily chatting away to the crowd of new faces. He had a cute, round face like most boys of seven, and he was the spitting image of his father at that age save for the mop of brown hair atop his head.

Once the pair stepped into the doorway, Zofia immediately pulled them into a warm hug. "I'm so glad you finally told," she whispered. "I hate keeping secrets from your parents."

Medea pulled back, opened mouthed. "You read—!"

Zofia put her hands up in mock surrender. "You were acting suspicious and I was worried."

"You two better have a good reason for getting married without us!" Odile wasted no time in saying.

"I know," Patrick said apologetically as they sat down. "Would you believe me if I said I just really wanted to marry her?"

"Yes," Draco said immediately without hesitation, earning a smile from his wife and daughter. All the same, a slight blush crept up his pale cheeks.

"We didn't tell you because we wanted to have a real wedding with all of you there. That's why we just told you we were engaged," Medea explained.

Patrick looked at his cousins. "We all knew how our family would react."

"And I hadn't a clue how you would feel," Medea told her parents.

"What's going on?" Jarrett asked his dad in a loud whisper.

"Well," Draco said and pulled his young son a little closer. "Dea got married."

"Married? Like you and mummy?" he asked brightly. The whole room was smiling at him.

Draco chuckled. "Yes, like me and mummy."

He seemed content with that answer; he relaxed against his father's chest and watched the scene unfold.

"Can you all forgive us?" Medea asked quietly, looking at each of her family members.

"'Course," Hyatt said lightheartedly. "Who are we to stand in the way of fate?"

* * * *

Ginny crossed her arms and looked up at her husband as her family members started to disapparate. "I'm not talking to you."

"I'm not talking to you either," he countered.

Her eyes narrowed and she walked away. The place needed to be cleaned up after all.

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed after a few seconds. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

"Because you're being stubborn and unreasonable," she replied quickly.

His mouth fell open. "You knew she was carrying on with him!"

She whirled around. "And you're still holding it against her after over twenty years!" She stared at him, nostrils flared before she noticeable sagged. "She was our friend, Harry."

Harry slowly walked to his wife and ran his fingers through her silky, auburn hair resting his hands on her shoulders. "We're not doing a very good job at not talking to each other, are we?"

She smiled slowly. "No."

He inhaled slowly, trying to get a hold on his emotions before he went on. "She knew who he was and she didn't say anything."

"Dumbledore knew, too," she reminded him. "She couldn't have changed anything, you know that."

He sighed. "But she didn't."

She couldn't disagree with that. "And you don't think she beat herself up about it constantly? You know they didn't get married for six years? Hermione didn't even go back to him after we all abandoned her."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Zofia," she said simply. "We worked on the same floor for years."

"Oh," Harry whispered. He hadn't known any of that.

"And it's not like she cheated on Ron," she continued. "She'd left Draco when he she thought he'd chosen Voldemort over her."

He scoffed. "And then she went back to him?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. She loved her husband, but sometimes he was an outright git. "I think he learned his lesson. Didn't you see him today? He's a completely different person."

Harry raised a dubious eyebrow and set about cleaning up some of the mess.

Ginny quietly watched her perturbed husband get rid of the decorations and pondered the situation that had transpired over twenty years ago. "How much they must have loved each other," she mused.

"What're you saying?" he mumbled and moved a table back to the corner.

"They had so many valid reasons to hate each other and yet they fell in love anyway and they made it work."

"What's your point?"

She shook her head pensively. "Medea is completely right," she whispered. "It was easy for us. Everyone did expect it and want it."

"And why is that a bad thing?"

Ginny joined her downcast husband and pushed her arms around his middle. "I'm not saying that it is. I just think we shouldn't hold it against Hermione because it wasn't so easy for her. She made mistakes, yes, but her intentions were pure and it's not as if she became a Death Eater for him. In fact, I'm sure we have her to thank for Draco fighting with us.

He rested his chin gently on her head. "I'm sure you're right," he whispered.

"I miss her, Harry," she whispered pitifully. It was clear that she was crying.

He was still loath to admit it, but he did too. Hermione had been with him through what could be called his formative years; she had helped shape him into the person he had become. Even in the too few times he had seen her over the past twenty years he could tell that she hadn't really changed. Her name was different now, but she was still Hermione Granger. "I suppose I ought to talk to Ron tomorrow so we can finally clean up this whole situation."

"Oh, I'm sure he's getting talked to as we speak. Did you see Gabrielle's face?"

Harry nodded. "I did and I know exactly what she was thinking."

"Well, once they work everything out and we talk to him, we're all going to Malfoy Manor and apologizing. After all, we apparently have a daughter-in-law that we've never met."

Harry scrunched up his face and looked down at his wife. "I'm going to be a grandfather and I'm barely forty!"

* * * *

Gabrielle Weasley slowly looked up at her husband with her pretty nostrils flared and her eyes bright with unshed tears. Then she was gone.

Regret had never come to Ron Weasley so swiftly, but in that moment he regretted every minute he had ever been angry over Hermione. But more than that, he regretted every missed opportunity that he'd had to tell his wife that he loved her more than anything else in the world. Because he did.

She was sitting on the sofa with silent tears running down her cheeks when he appeared in their salon. It broke his heart.

Her eyes slowly met his. "Are you still in love with her?"

Tears sprang into his blue eyes as he kneeled in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her knees. "No," he whispered, fervently hoping that his sincerity showed in his eyes. "There is no one in this entire world that I love more than you. I should have told you that every morning I've woken up next to you."

Her beautiful eyes lightened and she took hold of his hands. "Then why are you still so angry? You scare me, the way you are when anyone breathes her name."

He inhaled deeply. It was still his least favorite topic. "Because she was my friend and I did love her at the time," he explained. He'd never actually been so honest with himself. "It hurt me deeply—what she did."

"I still don't even understand what she did."

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "She fell in love with the wrong person and she choose him over everything else, even what she knew was right."

"He was a Death Eater, yes? And she knew?"

He nodded.

"And he would have gone to Azkaban if she would have turned him in?"

"Of course."

The smallest of smiles played at her lips. "If I did something that would send me to Azkaban and you were the only one who knew, would you turn me in? Send me to that terrible place?"

He couldn't answer right away because the first response that entered his mind was a resounding _no! _Yet, he still couldn't bring himself to admit that he understood the actions that had hurt him so deeply. At first he had been angry because he had loved Hermione, but the moment he had met Gabrielle again that reason had become obsolete.

"I know you, Ronald," she crooned softly. "You wouldn't."

He hung his head. "You're right. I couldn't."

"Then why are you still so angry that you would throw out our daughter because she became friends with her daughter?"

"I don't know," he whispered in stark honesty and looked up at her. "Can you forgive me?"

She took his face in her hands and kissed him slowly. "I love you, Ronald, but I am not the one who needs to forgive you."


	18. Reunited

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. Many of these characters, however, are of my own creation.

**Reunited**

The doorbell at Malfoy Manor resounded through the house at a quarter past nine in the morning. Patrick and Medea sat in the library with her parents, reading through the Daily Prophet after breakfast. It had been three days since the disastrous party and they had yet to hear anything from his family. Even his cousins had been curiously silent since they'd gone home.

"Is Aunt Zofia coming over?" Medea asked in confusion. The doorbell at Malfoy Manor didn't sound often.

"You know she doesn't ring the bell," Draco replied slowly.

"Then who…?"

The four of them stood in unison and walked to the front door, all of them secretly hoping they knew who was on the other side. Draco was silently selected to open the impressive door.

Seconds after it opened, a flash of red hair flew into the house and nearly tackled Hermione. "Merlin, I've missed you!"

Patrick stared at the scene with wide eyes. "Mum?"

"Ginny!" Hermione cried and held onto her old friend. "I've missed you, too!"

Another figure appeared in the doorway; a noble figure with a shock of black hair that looked like it hadn't been combed in years.

"Dad?"

Harry looked over at his son and smiled but before he said a word, Ginny was at his side, pulling him over to Hermione. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

He reached out a hand to Hermione. There were tears in her eyes but instead of shaking his hand, she pulled him into a hug. Then he broke. "I'm so sorry," he cried into her shoulder. "Can you forgive me?"

"It's all I've ever wanted to do," she whispered.

They all heard three consecutive _pops!_ A second later Odile walked into the foyer with a wide smile at her Uncle. She immediately joined her cousins. "Dad's outside," she whispered. "Though I fear he is slightly under duress."

As if to prove her point, the beautiful Gabrielle stepped through the doorway, pulling Ron in her wake. "Honestly, Ronald," she mumbled in her thick accent.

"Apparently he is very ashamed of his behavior," Odile explained.

"What? The past twenty years?"

She only smiled and shrugged.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered when she relinquished Harry.

Gabrielle pushed him forward and he received a firm look from his sister. "I—I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered. "Will you shake my hand?"

He nodded and took the hand she offered; two seconds later he was crying on her shoulder just like Harry. Even though there were tears in her eyes, Hermione was happy to have her friends back in her life after so many years.

"This is my wife, Gabrielle," Ron said when they parted.

Gabrielle kissed Hermione's cheeks and smiled brightly. "It is wonderful to meet you under these better circumstances."

Hermione's smile consumed her face. "I heartily agree."

Draco looked on the scene from the sidelines until Harry approached him and held out his hand. "Harry," he said, taking it.

"Draco, this is long overdue."

"It is," he agreed. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor."

Harry's lips turned into an ironic smile. "I must admit it's odd to be _welcomed_ into this house."

"I imagine it is. Hermione refused to move in here until we had Medea."

Ron moved next to his brother-in-law and held out his hand. "Malfoy," he said, still refusing to call him by his first name. "Sorry 'bout what I said."

"Consider it forgotten," he said sincerely.

"How about we all go into the library?" Hermione suggested to the group, a beaming smile on her face.

Medea and Patrick moved to follow until she caught sight of her very still father.

"Dad, you're crying," she whispered when he didn't follow the crowd into the library. "Aren't you happy?"

He forced a smile but another tear rolled down his cheek. "It's just—I have to share her now."

Medea shed a tear of her own. "Oh, dad."

"Don't misunderstand me; I want nothing more than her happiness. It's just—I've had her to myself all these years and I selfishly liked it that way."

Patrick's arm slid around his wife's waist as he considered his father-in-law. Despite what he had been told growing up, he had greatly respected Draco since he'd met him. At that moment though, he felt a genuine affection grow for him. It was hard for people with easy love to fathom the strength of a love that had overcome as many obstacles as theirs had. Whatever could be said about Draco's past, he loved his wife more than anything in the world and it clearly showed on his face that very moment.

"She is happy though, isn't she?"

Medea got a slightly wicked grin on her face. "She is, yeah, but not quite as happy as she is in the mornings when she floats around the house."

The smallest of smirks came to Draco lips. "You think so?"

"No comparison."

He planted a quick kiss on his daughter's cheek. "Cheers, love."

Hermione had stopped just outside of the library and a smile parted her lips when Draco joined her. It quickly morphed into a grin when he snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her tightly against him and kissed her soundly.

"What was that for?" she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

"After all these years do I really need a reason?" he teased.

She kissed him again, slowly. "I suppose not, but I do so enjoy hearing your reasons."

He pushed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. "Because you looked so happy and beautiful and I could no longer resist you."

"Good reason."

"I thought so as well." Another, more gentle kiss. "Shall we?"

With his arm firmly at her waist, Draco escorted his wife through the doorway to their room full of guests.

"Well that answers that question," Patrick mumbled as he watched his in-laws disappear.

"Answers what question?" Medea asked with a smile.

He started toward to the library, pulling her along. "I was going to ask why your mum was so happy in the mornings and I have a feeling I know why know." He smiled. "Your parents are…"

She smiled and nodded. "They're in love."


End file.
